Little Bird
by LapinNoire
Summary: The Bird of Hermes is returned after thirty years and reunited with his master and his fledgling. The bitterness of the world has finally weedled its way into her heart and she is no longer the girl he knew. The darkness of the heart has finally surfaced in his little bird... DRABBLE. 'Darker' SerasXreturned Alucard. Post OVA. M for violence and Adult themes. LEMON IS FINALLY HERE!
1. The Returned

_**A/N:**_ Another day, another fandom... Call me a fiction whore, whatever, I don't care.

For my first trick, I present to you the Vampire ALUCARD! And his little bird, Seras Victoria...

* * *

**The Returned.**

His belated reunion with his master complete, the No Life King lounged on his throne, relaxing in the dark, cool quiet of his lair. To be back was to continue with the tedium of a half-life and to find no rest in his wakefulness, but he was relieved to be rid of – what he liked to call – all that heavy-lifting. Fighting with himself over a period of thirty years had tired him out and if age had wasted his master, then he had wasted himself. The few droplets of blood she had allowed him left a tang on his tongue. It was not as clean as it once was – polluted by the cancer-sticks she constantly smoked – and had thinned with age, but the fundamental flavour of it was the same as it had been all those years ago when she had first woken him from his slumber. It was underlined by the taste of the Hellsing family.

His canines lengthened as he thought of all the blood he had been missing over those thirty years and he swallowed thickly the saliva that had begun to pool on his tongue. As if to answer his mental summons, there came a knock on the door; light, quick, professional.

"Come." He rumbled, closing his eyes briefly as the faint smell of blood reached him, stifled by the plastic of the medical bag, but still perceptible to his nose.

The figure who entered his domain was not, however, the man he had expected. It was his fledgling, not the butler he had grown so accustomed to seeing and he clicked his tongue at the very idea that it might have been. Walter was dead, long dead and had taken his last few hours to betray them all. Alucard would make sure never to expect him again, or accept if he ever should appear.

His evident displeasure stalled his fledgling in the doorway and she stood, a bucket full of medical bags in her hand, shifting from foot to foot. Uneasy. A snarl from her master very nearly sent her packing and through the fog of her nervousness and the hunger-induced haze that surrounded him he caught a whiff of her disappointment.

There was a clang from the bucket as the put it on the ground by the door and the dull scrapping of her wooden heel on the stone floor as she about-faced, ready to leave.

"Police Girl,"

She thwarted his attempt to stall her with the shutting of the door and he was left once again in silence, the gentle click of his door losing ringing softly around the cavernous space around him. It would have seemed as though a lot had changed while he'd been gone; his master an old woman; his fledgling a matured vampyrress… Two things he had wanted to see for himself, watch them change, watch them grow.

His thoughts turned to the blood in the bucket and he closed his fingers gingerly around them, lifting the cold packet into the air and bringing it closer to his nose. A sniff told him this person was a type A. Not his favourite, but then his favourite was remarkably hard to come by, probably a lot harder to come by now that he had apparently annoyed his main supplier. He wondered if she'd started drinking the blood in earnest yet, or if she was still as adverse to it as she used to be. He abandoned the blood and disappeared into the floor, seeping up through the walls until he arrived in his fledgling's room.

She was sat at the table (rather longer and wider than he remembered) and was thumbing through a copy of Bram Stoker's 'Dracula'. Interesting…

Before he could comment on it however, the chair closest to him pulled itself out and offered itself up for him to sit on. He took it with a raised eyebrow and a pinch of salt, noticing that it was a lot smaller than the one she sat on. Obviously, as the main monster at Hellsing in his absence she could afford more lavish living accommodations.

"I missed you." She said, not even lifting her eyes from the book. "And all I get is a snarl in return. Sometimes I wonder why I even bother."

He watched a page turn slowly in the book, her eyes following it as well as it turned, fingers resting idly on the table top. There was bitterness here, he could feel it in the air. The eyes that glanced momentarily up at him, gauging his reaction – though there was none – were a deep shade of red, almost black. Instead of the rubies he had seen in the Battle of London, these darkened orbs reminded him of thick and congealed blood. What was she eating these days? What had happened to her while he was away?

"Nothing really." She replied and he realised she had been spying on his thoughts. "I took up the mantle you left behind. I've slain hundreds of ghouls, freaks and vampires. I've sewn myself back together more times than I can count and I have seen thirty years of the underbelly of the world." Another page drifted lazily over. "I have feasted on the blood of men, I have slaughtered policemen in their hundreds. I have lost control of myself so many times that now I-"She pulled down the collar of her uniform to reveal a silver chain and plaque, bearing the insignia of the Hellsing family and a seal, much like his own. "- have been branded a monster."

How interesting. He stood from his chair and strolled as lazily as he could manage – the hunger for her blood was almost overpowering – along the table towards her, trailing his fingers along the table-top as he walked. Reaching her, he tucked his fingers under her chin and tilted her head up as though inspecting the silver chain she wore. The dark eyes watched him frostily until he met them with his own gaze.

"And what is to say that I haven't missed you as well?" His deep baritone did nothing to fill the otherwise silent room and he marvelled internally at the way her depression seemed to monopolise the very air.

"Logic." She began and he could tell – through some mental prying of his own – that she was compiling a list. "Your snarling. Your silence. Your expressionless face at my improvements. Your disappointment at my very presence. You wouldn't even drink the blood packs I gave you, even though you're hungry. You would have rathered drink Sir Integra's blood than them. You would have rathered I were Walter."

"Wrong, Police Girl."

"You won't even say my name…"

The tone surprised him, an icy I-told-you-so tone as she pulled her chin from his fingers and returned to her book. His patience was wearing thin and her insubordination was beginning to grate, although her words did hold some logic.

He rolled his eyes and fisted his hand in her hair, dragging her up from her seat. The book slipped from her fingers and hit the floor with a thud as Alucard spun his fledgling roughly around and nearly fell upon her neck, digging his teeth into her neck so hard they hit bone and the pair toppled onto the table top.

* * *

A jagged scraping jerked Sir Integra's attention to the laptop by her bedside, the security camera image showing Seras' room onscreen. She smiled ruefully as the two vampires stilled and silence fell over the image again. It was clear that Alucard was hungry; he had pinned his fledgling to the table top, had settled the bulk of his weight between her thighs and had both hands fisted in her blonde hair, his teeth buried in her neck. Even from here she could tell that his eyes were closed and he was drinking deeply, his Adams apple bobbed with every swallow.

For a few minutes now she had been engrossed in a book – unable to sleep from the excitement of Alucard's return and yet relaxed enough to finally be able to enjoy a good read – and snippets of the two vampires' conversation had drifted into her ears. She was pleased to hear that they missed each other, but was slightly concerned about Seras' apparent discontent. It was, after all, the first time she had heard such bitterness in the girl's voice and she had known her long enough.

Picking up the mantle Alucard had left was obviously going to be a hard task, but Seras had done an admirable job and could not have been said by anyone to have failed. The loneliness that she now clearly suffered with was something no one could help her with. Missing her master was just part and parcel of the package.

The source of the scraping was soon made known as Alucard shifted closer and the table legs juddered along the floor. A hiss of discomfort was audible as he bent his fledgling's head further back, allowing himself unfettered access to her throat and her blood. Integra did her best to drag her eyes away from the screen and back to her book, leaving the two vampires in relative privacy.

* * *

He reigned in a groan that threatened to escape and shifted to a better, more comfortable position between his fledgling's thighs. The taste of her blood had deepened over the years, become more viscous, more intoxicating. The last time he had had a fledgling her blood had been sweet, saccharine and thin. It was a perfectly pleasant experience, but it reflected the issues she had; too damned gentle for her own good. Mina didn't feed enough. She was too picky about what her food looked like and would only drink from the most delectable of men.

Seras' blood was nothing like Mina's; it was thick, coppery, and so rich in variety… Spicy. It burnt like fire on the way down and it made him feel a little light-headed. But after thirty years of starvation, what could one expect?

At some point in his feed Seras had begun to stroke his hair, her gloveless fingers sifting through the thick dark locks, blunt nails lightly scratching his scalp every now and again. It felt criminally good. Between that and the feeding he had, by the time he released her from his clutches his cheeks were flushed a deep pink. He stood from the warmth of her body and ran a hand through his hair, pushing it from his eyes. She was a beautiful sight to behold; pale and trembling; blonde hair matted in a bloody, sticky mess to her cheek and neck; a dark bloom soaking through her uniform shoulder as the pool of blood on the table spread slowly. Vampire bites were never as clean as they were advertised to be and he was sure he was just as covered in it as she was.

Leaning back over her, he licked gently at the bite wound, aware that he was a lot rougher with her this time than was necessary and that the spot was going to be tender for a good long while. Feeling the flesh begin to knit back together under his tongue, he lifted his head to meet her exhausted gaze. Unable to help himself, he touched his lips to hers, brief but still long enough to leave a bloody kiss mark on her lips when he pulled back.

"Goodnight, little bird…" He whispered.

* * *

Little bird… Little Bird… She levered herself off the table a while after he had left and winced at the pain in her neck. The feeling of his teeth on her bone still making her teeth twinge. It was, admittedly, a horrible feeling and one she hoped she would never see a repeat of, but the depths to which his fangs reached was evidence of one thing: how desperate he was in that moment. Whether it was the hunger for blood that over-took him, or that he did actually miss her - despite his surface exhibitions of indifference – it triggered another of those deep-rooted desires, the fulfilment of which left her feeling satisfied, relieved, pleased somehow.

She took herself over to where her coffin lay on the floor and did something she hadn't done in nearly 20 years. She clambered in and shut the lid. When she had begun drinking live blood on a regular basis, the need for her coffin and the soil from her birthplace became something of a moot point and she was free to sleep in the four-poster coffin which had been prepared for her by Walter so many years ago. The extra space it afforded her was very welcome to the young vampyrress, but tonight she needed all the strength she could get and the coffin was the place for it.

The darkness seemed to consume her weak body and she fell into slumber, filled with nothing but darkness the distant cawing of a crow with three glowing red eyes. "Little bird… Little bird…"

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_**A/N:**_ PLEASE tell me what you thought of it, I can only grasp at concepts when my writing is appraised and a verdict given...

I realised while writing this that my estimation of Seras Victoria is a little different from the pictures painted by other writers, but I think this fits very well. Thirty years has passed and even if physically she does not age, the world will still age her mind and the rose tinted glasses she wore in her early days will crack and... hmm... That's rather good, I think I'm going to write that down...

Anyway, my point is that her feeling lonely and bitter about a world she will be forced to walk for eternity is not surprising and - in my personal opinion - should not be unexpected. The mental convergence with the thoughts and feelings of her master is all part of that.

So! PREPARE YOURSELVES! For a darker-than-usual Seras Victoria and a steadily more affectionate Alucard...

-Lapin...


	2. The Pianist

_**A/N:**_ Cor! Lots of people interested in these things! Excellent! I shall have plenty of motivation to get on with a few more of these then! Anyway, please enjoy this chapter!

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The Pianist.

The click of his door opening sounded above the soft notes of piano he played and the quiet pad of feet across his room told him that his fledgling was approaching. It was rare for her to visit his rooms, much less enter, but he dared not lift his fingers from the keys and dispel the peace that currently held sway over his chambers. As he played, he had no particular tune in mind, indeed the song he was currently weaving was an amalgamation of a number of his favourites and followed along no recognisable line.

The padding stopped some meters behind him and after some time of waiting he decided, curious, to prompt her, "Do you need something?"

She remained silent but he could feel her eyes on the back of his head and heard her resume her advance. Bare feet. Why wasn't she dressed yet? Did she just wake up?

"You're making a lot of noise." She said quietly, voice raspy from sleep.

He gave her a black laugh and lifted his fingers from the keys. "Music is a gift, Police Girl, sleep is a luxury."

Looking back over his shoulder revealed an unimpressed Seras Victoria with Harkonnen tucked under her arm. He raised his eyebrow, was she going to tear him a new one simply for disturbing her beauty sleep. She had _clearly_ gotten used to being top dog in his absence and woe-betide anyone who disturbed her slumber.

"Do you plan to kill me, Police Girl?" He asked, slipping a hint of aggression into his voice. It was important he retained his position as the dominant one in this relationship, after all.

"No, but I thought I could make a little music of my own if you intend to keep that up." She said dryly and he afforded her another laugh before sliding over on his chair and patting the now vacant space. "No thank you, I don't play."

"Really, Police Girl?" He grinned toothily as she turned around and began the trek back to his chamber door, her point made. "And here I thought you missed me. Wouldn't you like to spend some more time with your master?"

She paused, a feeling of longing wafting across to him and he knew he had her. Of course she wanted to spend more time with him. He had seen it in the looks she sent his way on their moonlit missions and in the training centre. Longing. Always longing.

Wordlessly, she put Harkonnen on the floor and about-faced, avoiding his eyes as she walked to the seat and placed her bottom in the space provided. She was embarrassed. Good. Her recent behaviour had led him to believe that there was nothing of his sweet Victoria left. It was a relief to find that he was, at least, partially wrong.

He returned his hands to the keys and began to play. The song he found himself playing was a lullaby, slow and gentle. It was an ancient song of Romanian origin and he remembered that he had liked it when he was alive. It flowed from his fingertips with little effort, memories of quiet evenings, secret midnight escapades and his mother's music box bleeding together like water colours in his mind. Beside him, Seras sat very still as he played, eyes slightly glazed and sleepier looking than before. The pair remained in companionable silence until the piece had ended and his fingers stilled upon the keys.

"What is it called?" She asked him, sleepy voice touched with wonderment.

"Little Bird."

To his amusement, she stiffened at the name and wrinkled her nose, but ground out a quiet "It's beautiful", however begrudging.

"I'm pleased that you like it." He smiled down at the top of her head. "Would you like to know how to play it?"

"No thank you." She said, standing up and turning her back on him, going for the door. "I don't play."

She picked up Harkonnen and left, the door shutting with a soft _click_ behind her and he listened to her footsteps getting gradually quieter along the hallway.

Running his fingers along the keys absent-mindedly, he cast his mind back to a time when his own blood still flowed through his veins and he still believed in the power and mercy of God. Everything he recalled was precisely detailed, the smell in the air, the sound of the piano, the creak of the floorboards under his feet as he peered around the doorway, curious and childlike. His father's fingers coaxed the song from the piano, drawing it out in waves of melody, so powerful it made his head swim and yet seeming so distant that he could hardly perceive it.

He opened his eyes to his ceiling in the Hellsing basement. His fledgling had worn the same, contended expression that he could recall himself wearing all those years ago. She was becoming more and more like him as time went on, becoming interested in weaponry, blood and the after-death, but also the finer things like literature, music and the human composition. The little bird was growing fast and soon there would be not one Bird of Hermes, but two.

* * *

_**A/N:**_ I have for you here, a small sample of the next chapter (currently in the works). Please enjoy;

_As the vampire in question backed hastily into a corner, Seras caught against his chest with a knife to her throat, Alucard wondered what the outcome of this situation would be. It was clear that the vampire was an idiot – not to have even noticed that Seras was a vampire herself – and it was clear that he would be dead in a very short amount of time. What wasn't clear however was which one of them it was who would off him. Seras looked, for her part, absolutely terrified and to the vampire who had her clutched to him as a shield that was probably exactly how he saw her. But to Alucard it was blindingly obvious that it was not terror in her eyes but excitement of the darkest kind._

_ Her pupils were fixed on her master, dilated and glistening in the dim light of the street lamps and she had ceased to breathe. He could practically see her teeth elongating behind the cover of her lips and it was only because he was so terrified of the master vampire before him, that her captor didn't notice them as well._

So... Too dark? Not dark enough? This one will be the first to carry warnings over graphic material. You have been warned - if you don't like graphic material then it is suggested you tune out for this one...

Anyway, please tell me what you thought of this latest installment, if you have any criticisms or requests you want just write it in the review and I will do my best to adhere :D

-Lapin


	3. The Departed

_**A/N:**_ It would appear that the 'dark' Seras is going down rather well. I hope then that you're all prepared for the following - it's not the darkest that she will become but it sets a good precident for things to come.

Please enjoy this latest installment.

* * *

The Departed.

As the vampire in question backed hastily into a corner, Seras caught against his chest with a knife to her throat, Alucard wondered what the outcome of this situation would be. It was clear that the vampire was an idiot – not to have even noticed that Seras was a vampire herself – and it was clear that he would be dead in a very short amount of time. What wasn't clear however was which one of them it was who would off him. Seras looked, for her part, absolutely terrified and to the vampire who had her clutched to him as a shield that was probably exactly how he saw her. But to Alucard it was blindingly obvious that it was not terror in her eyes but excitement of the darkest kind.

Her pupils were fixed on her master, dilated and glistening in the dim light of the street lamps and she had ceased to breathe. He could practically see her teeth elongating behind the cover of her lips and it was only because he was so terrified of the master vampire before him, that her captor didn't notice them as well.

* * *

"_There have been a string of attacks around Piccadilly circus," Sir Integra began. She was reclined in her desk chair, a cigar between her fingers and she rolled it circumspectively. "Large numbers of prostitutes have been reported missing and have all been reported to have last been seen with the same man."_

_She paused for a pull from her cigar and the smoke spiralled lazily towards the ceiling, two pairs of red eyes watching its ascent. Sir Integra continued, "We have three policemen dead and one child reputedly involved in the case. You have one objective: Search and destroy. Seras, you are dismissed, Alucard, I would have a word with you."_

_With a quick peak at her master, Seras turned around and left. Almost as soon as the door was shut, Sir Integra was out of her seat. She crossed the room under Alucard's curious red gaze to a set of drawers on the far wall, from which she pulled a briefcase, clearly too heavy for her to wield comfortably because she huffed and puffed as she struggled to close the drawers one-handed._

_Gently, Alucard took the case from his master, lifting the weight from her thin, bony fingers and taking the thing to her desk for her. She raised an eyebrow and folded her arms over her chest. Damned vampire being so smooth. Yes she was older now and wasn't as capable with some things as she used to be, but that case was damned heavy, it wasn't because she was frail._

_She was determined not to feel thankful for his good behaviour and stayed exactly where she was. "I took the liberty of replacing your old Jackal with something a little more reliable." She said and, at her prompting, Alucard opened the case._

_The gun looked, for all intents and purposes, exactly the same as the jackal, indeed it was even named the same. Every spec she listed was the precise copy of everything Walter had laid out for it. Red eyes narrowed as he inspected it._

"_It's an exact copy."_

"_Not quite. It is a half gram heavier and won't explode with excessive heat."_

"_Really…?"_

"_You over fired the last one and the metal wouldn't take the strain. I had that gun made nearly thirty years ago so it is now an antique. Don't break it."_

_The grin that spread over his face was barely perceptible from the slight curve in his cheek, but his back was to his master so the full extent of his amusement was lost on her. This was probably a very good thing._

"_I have one more thing I'd like you to do, Alucard." Sir Integra said when Alucard had finished his inspection of the new Jackal and, finding it satisfactory enough, put it away in a halter beneath his jacket. "I would like you to observe Seras Victoria and report to me anything of note."_

"_Of… Note?" There was a lot which could fit into that category._

"_Behaviour, acts of unnecessary cruelty, mission performance dipping below the ideal." Sir Integra clarified, fishing her cigar case from her left breast-pocket and popping it open with one hand while her other dug in her pocket for a lighter. "If there's anything about her which seems out of her ordinary, report it."_

* * *

Did this count as abnormal behaviour; the sexuality that she leant to a routine clean-up operation? He could feel the tremors from her heart as the dead flesh fluttered in her chest, attempting to beat. Strange scents began to overtake him as her irises slipped off the edges of her eyes, the pupils so wide as to monopolise her gaze… It took him a couple of breaths to realise that this scent was her personal pheromone being released into the air. It was like a finger, crooked in the direction of his heart begging it to beat as well, but all it did was lengthen his fangs.

The vampire she was crushed to also seemed to notice the scent, but wasn't experienced enough to recognise it for what it was and so just stood there, sniffing the breeze. Seras' mouth began to move, so slowly it was barely perceptible, but as the seconds passed in tense silence a wide smile began to stretch the flesh of her lips. Trepidation for the kill began to rise as their situation seemed to be reaching its head, but Alucard was loath to take the shot and deprive his fledgling of what promised to be her pleasure.

To the vampire target, there was nothing suspicious about the girl he was holding, but before he even had time to fully realise it, her hand was beneath his ribs, finger-tips tickling his heart. He dropped the knife with a pained shout and shoved Seras from him. She fell to the floor with a splash of stale blood.

An eyebrow rose as before Alucard's eyes black, glistening tendrils began to bloom from a small nick on his fledgling's throat. They unfurled like a set of tentacles just stretching after a long sleep and extended towards the now-cowering vampire. Terror seemed to be the order of the night as the hands which had been clamped firmly over the gaping hole in the vampire's abdomen were pulled firmly away and the hole was pulled open by many more of the tentacles, like hooks. The screams filled the night air; she had opened him out like some lab experiment that was up for dissection. Alucard couldn't take his eyes from the scene.

At his feet, Seras began to chuckle as she picked herself daintily from the ground and brushed herself off, although the blood soaked into her clothes was going to need more than a simple brushing off to sort out.

"Did you know, it's said that it takes an average of five seconds for the vampyrric body to disintegrate following the removal of its heart?" She said as she turned to face her victim. It was amazing how quickly the situation turned itself around in her hands. "Shall we remove yours and see if that's true?"

The victim could only scream in fear, prompting Seras to shake her head in apparent amusement. She shot a glance over her shoulder at her master and smiled, "Incredible, isn't it? How even the stupidest of monkeys can end up being vampires. He hasn't managed a single word this entire time."

Alucard raised his eyebrow at the sentiment but made no comment because Seras had already returned to her prey.

"If you can manage the language of the human race," She said, a scathing note in her voice as she stood before the quivering vampire, "You're going to answer a few of my questions and I will end your suffering."

Questions? Alucard couldn't remember there being any questions to be asked, but once again he let her get on with it; perhaps there _was_ something he missed.

"Have you had any contact with a small child since becoming what you are?" She asked, arms folded over her chest.

The vampire appeared confused and shook his head. His jaw was between Seras' fingers, several snaps sounding as she broke his teeth like little pegs inside his mouth. "Language of the human race." She snarled, eliciting a pained and frightened yowl from her prey. "That means words, cock-sucker!"

Alucard winced at the phrase. Far from the usual derogatory meaning affiliated with the term, to imply such a thing about a creature who sustained its life through the action of sucking… It was a little too low, even for him. Did Seras mean it like that though? Was she clued in to the implications of what she'd just said? The wrinkles on her nose – adorable, by the way – and the sardonic note through her voice suggested she did.

"No." The vampire whispered, voice barely audible above the croak that broke from his throat.

"The child has nothing to do with you?" She asked him again, knuckles turning white from the grip she had on his jaw.

"No!" He shouted, eyes screwed tightly shut.

A whisper of a prayer was felt in the air, but before it could make anything of itself it was cut viciously short. Seras dangled the heart in front of its owner by an artery – the subclavian artery if Alucard wasn't much mistaken – and the vampires eyes widened in horror as Seras began to count.

"One… Two… Three… Four… Fi- Hmm… That's a shame," She turned around to face her master, fore-finger and thumb still clasped as though the heart was still there. "He didn't even make it to five…"

Alucard raised his eyebrow. He seemed to have been doing that a lot lately where his fledgling was concerned. "It's only an average." He heard himself say, sounding remarkably calm despite the turmoil he felt inside.

This was probably exactly the sort of nightly activity that Sir Integra was talking about when she said 'anything of interest', although to whom it would be the most interesting was not clear. Currently, Alucard was leading the way back to the temporary base while his fledgling walked along behind him and frankly, it made him feel a little uncomfortable. He wasn't used to such human emotions as worry. Technically he hadn't had to 'worry' about those for almost 600 years, give or take a few decades, and boy oh boy what a relief that had been! Now he was feeling the hints of emotion again he was reminded just how much of a burden they were.

In the car ride back to Hellsing Mansion, there was very little space – apparently one of the cars had struck with a flat tire and needed to be hauled away by the AA, of all things – and thus the only place for Seras to sit was on her Master's knee. Facing forward. Thankfully she appeared to be just as embarrassed about this as he did – her scent was so seductively strong it was almost destructive - and for the better part of the journey they sat in determined and uncomfortable silence.

Eventually, desperate to lift the oppressive atmosphere, Alucard asked one of the questions that had been preying on his mind since the completion of the mission – though admittedly the question he chose to ask was one of the less wild ones – "Why did you bother to ask him about the child?"

Evidently glad of the conversation, Seras shifted on her seat so she wouldn't have to crane her neck to speak to him. "I wanted to make sure that we'd completely finished the mission. It wouldn't do to leave any lose ends. Simply assuming he was the only one to have been working in the area means we'd have missed it."

"It?"

She frowned, as if he was being stupid. "That there's another vampire out there."

He rolled his eyes. "Police Girl-"

"Not my name."

"-There will _always_ be another vampire out there. As long as we exist, there will be vampires." The frown turned into a scowl, clearly unimpressed. "It's unavoidable. What you're doing is extra foot work. _Unnecessary_ foot work."

"I'm a cop, it's my job."

"Past tense."

By the time they'd arrived back at the Mansion, they had descended once again into silence, though this one was decidedly frostier than the last. The two pet vampires went immediately to report to their master, keeping a good cubic meter of space between them.

"So," Sir Integra addressed them once they'd settled themselves into at-ease positions. "What have you to report?"

Alucard's purr was the first to be heard. "Mission successful, my Master."

"There is another Vampire in the close vicinity." Seras said suddenly, very nearly cutting her master up, but keeping herself on the polite side of insultingly close. Just barely though.

"What do you mean?" Sir Integra snapped, the extra bit of information, lack of sleep and her advancing age rendering her instantly irritable.

"The case with the child has nothing to do with the Vampire we destroyed tonight." Seras replied, "He said so himself."

"And what makes you think he told you the truth?" Sir Integra growled, "Scum have no trouble with lying."

"I made it sound as though I would give him his freedom if he gave me the information I wanted."

"And did you?"

"Of course not. I killed him as soon as he had outlived his worth. But he was adamant that he wasn't the vampire in connection with the child."

Sir Integra paused for thought, dragging a breath through her cigar and letting the smoke roll around her teeth. "Very well, if you have nothing else to report, Seras you are dismissed." She finally conceded, the smoke coming out with her speech.

Seras nodded, swept a bow and about faced, making to leave the room. But not before she stuck her tongue out in an I-told-you-so fashion at her Master.

"Well," Sir Integra prompted once Seras was deemed far enough away, "What have _you_ to report, Alucard?"

"Nothing of note." He lied.

"Are you lying to me?" She questioned, eyes narrowing menacingly.

"When I have something worth reporting, I will endeavour to do so, my Master." He dodged the question.

"There was really nothing?" She wasn't convinced. "Alucard, I know something happened tonight, I could smell it all over her and she's covered in blood. Are you sure there was nothing."

"I'm sure."

"But the smell."

"Smell?"

"Yes!" She snapped again, her momentarily returned patience frittering away alarmingly quickly in the face of his apparent stupidity. "The smell! Her smell! It's filled my office! I know you can smell it and I know you know what it is, so don't even attempt to tell me you can't smell it!"

He adopted a sheepish expression, purely for effect as he muttered, "I didn't realise you could smell it."

His words were, of course, perfectly audible and Sir Integra bristled visibly. "What did you do?"

"What makes you think the scent has anything to do with me?" He asked and his master wrinkled her nose. Apparently the word 'scent' was far too kind for her liking, although calling it a 'smell' didn't really fit in his books either.

"Fine." She said and turned her eyes away as she wafted a hand dismissively in his direction, "Keep your secrets. I don't even _want_ to know. You're dismissed."

He swept a low bow, one hand fisted behind his back, the other held to his chest, palm first before fading away to go and find his fledgling. There were some things he just had to know now. Like why the hell Sir Integra praised her for her unnecessary analysis of the mission.

When he arrived in his fledgling's room however, all words deserted him. It would have appeared, from the strangled yelp of his fledgling and the garbled string of curses that exploded from the short blonde, that his visit was somewhat unexpected. She dove for the night dress that was slung over the edge of her four-poster.

"It's nothing I've not already seen." He said, as much trying to assure himself as her.

"That's not the point." She whined, face bright pink. Well, some things never changed at least. And it wasn't as if she was naked, she was still in her under-wear for Pete's sake!

He rolled his eyes and joked, "Should I turn around?"

The narrowed eyes that peered out at him over that stifling blush warned him not to try to be amusing because it wasn't going to work. But from somewhere she managed to find some courage and discarded the night dress. It fell just short of the bed, a rumpled satin skeleton.

"Don't bother, I wasn't feeling the night dress anyway." She said, hands on her hips. Was she sassing him? He thought he was sassing her.

There followed a staring match, bright red eyes versus dull red orbs that seemed almost dusty in her head. Was she ok? She looked a little… Well… peaky…

"You look ill, Police Girl." He said and her blush darkened dramatically, her streak of eminent bravado waning. "When did you last feed?"

"Last night." She said, turning around and going to her bedside table. "But this has nothing to do with that."

She began rummaging around in her room, searching through cupboards, drawers, under her four-poster and everywhere until eventually she came up with a packet of cigarettes previously hidden under her pillow. She cast about for a lighter and – failing to find one – turned to her master. "Do you have a light?"

He raised an eyebrow. "No."

She clicked her tongue in annoyance and looked at the cigarette forlornly. "It's a shame, it looks like the night ends here. Well," She looked up at her master, "Goodnight, Master."

It looked as though any questions he had would have to wait until another time as Alucard found himself being ushered through the door by the scantily clad fledgling. He walked to his chambers in silence, thoughts running wild, so confused and pretty damn sure he was going to be unable to sleep. She smoked? Since when? Why? Did she understand what indulging in the habits of the living meant? How insulting it was to a vampire to copy the living? She was a queen of the undead, so why was she smoking a damned fag?!

He arrived in his chambers a bit of a mental mess and cast his eyes about for a meal. In front of his throne sat a bucket of ice, and three packets of blood. He tucked in without hesitation, thankful that the blood was still the same as he remembered it to be. At least that hadn't changed… Collapsed gracelessly in his throne, sucking on the blood packet – fore-going the wine glass in the light of the evening he'd had – he decided to do a little probing of his little bird's mind, hoping to throw some clarity on his situation. He very quickly wished, however, that he hadn't. The image of his own lips caressing soft, supple skin and blonde hair falling in sexy disarray beneath an annoying familiar cowboy hat helped him in no way, what-so-ever. But it did tell him how much sleep he was likely to get today; very little indeed.

* * *

_**A/N:**_ A bit cheeky at the end, I know, but I just couldn't help myself. We shall see the return of the cigarette at some point and all questions shall be answered, have no fear. I am aware (before anyone decides to wave a copy of the manga under my nose or cite the OVA) that Seras doesn't think very highly of cigarettes, but all shall be explained, so keep your knickers on people, geez!

Anyway, if anyone has any prompts, anything they'd like to see, I will happily write to specification :D

Please tell me what you thought of this lastest installment (It was only supposed to be 100 words... Oops!) and if there's anything you think I need to improve upon :D

-Lapin...


	4. The Weak

_**A/N:**_ Hello, it's been a bit of a last few days and I'm very sorry not to have updated sooner, but between being run over by horses and being shot at in the dark, I've not really had much time.

This chapter is a little more violent on Alucard's side and doesn't explain much other than the pair of them are unhappy with each other - but we already knew that - so feel free to miss this one if you want. It was originally intended to end on a lime.

Please enjoy this update,

* * *

The Weak.

"Take that fucking thing out of your mouth." He snarled and the wasted end of the cigarette dropped to the floor, a red lipstick mark colouring the end. Since when did she wear lipstick? "Smoking is a dirty habit."

"It's not like picking your nose." She countered, tapping a new cigarette out of the box she held in her hands and grasping it gently with her lips. She flicked her lighter open and struck up a flame, allowing it to tickle the tip of the cigarette, eyes probing his for a reaction. What was this, a game?

"You hate smoking." He snapped, trying not to let his curiosity show. She has always made such a huge show about hating smoking, berating Sir Integra about the habit – claiming it would ruin her lungs – and refused to enter the human barracks until all cigarettes, fags, pipes or cigars had been well and truly snuffed. So what changed?

She shrugged and lit the thing properly, breathing slowly and deliberately through it. 'Have you ever wanted to do something for a soul?' She sent the thought into his head and he received it without hesitation. He wished now though that he'd blocked it. The hairs on the back of his neck bristled as he shook his head. No. He wouldn't even consider it. 'Even a soul you cared about?'

That damned Frenchman! So she was fuelling his addiction despite her own aversion! Against his aversion! Alucard was positively fuming at the implication; that _that_ dead Frenchman meant more to her that his words did. All the while she continued to breathe through her cigarette, burning it nearly to the filter. He snatched it with a snarl from her mouth and tossed it to the floor.

"What the hell?!" She yelled, giving him a hard retaliatory shove in the chest and sending him into the table. His eyes widened momentarily at the action – he couldn't even remember the last time someone had actually _shoved_ him – before he had her reflexively by the throat and had tossed her across the room in a similar fashion to the cigarette. She crashed into a full length mirror by her chest of drawers, bending the frame with her back and showering the back wall in fragmented glass.

"Don't disobey me." He spat as he stood over her. She was peering up at him from between her bangs and fear tinged the corners of her gaze. He was her master and she would obey him or suffer the consequences, suffer his wrath. "I told you to take that cigarette out of your mouth and you will do as you're told! I'm your master!"

He faltered as she sneered, unable to predict what was going to happen next – she had gotten remarkably good at blocking him from her mind while he'd been away. "You're nothing but a broken end."

"_What?_"

"You're empty. You only have one life left." She picked herself from the floor, the tinkle of glass falling to the floor complimenting her words. The apparent beauty of the scene was not lost on him, but his anger was too strong to allow him to bask in the atmosphere, or the look in her eyes. Those eyes… Those beautiful, dark, glistening eyes that were narrowed, malice-filled and probing. Predatory. "You're even weaker than me right now, _Master_."

The titled was a taunt now. He snarled and grabbed for her throat again, noting with some surprise that she didn't attempt to dodge, or stop him. Her confidence in her own strength only heightened his anger; he could barely get his words out. "You have no fucking idea how far apart we are," He hissed, bringing her closer to him so that his breath ruffled her hair and all he could really see was her eyes. "Do you?"

He couldn't recall ever being this angry with someone, if he ever had been then it was lost in the ancient archives of his memory and was not to be remembered. But the way she was acting was so intolerable that even he could not compose himself. His gazed flicked between each of her eyes, looking for the fear that should have been there but was at this time strangely absent. "You don't know. Do you?"

"I know how far apart we are, _Master_," Another mocking tone, "I'm so high above you I can hardly see you any more." _What?_ "You're just a speck on the ground, so far away that you hardly matter now."

He turned and threw her away, as though unable to be anywhere near her any longer and her ribs crunched horribly inside her skin as her back met with the table-top. Pain exploded all over her body as nerve-endings screamed in protest, still his voice cut through the muddle and clouds of agony in her head, cool and sharp like the wet edge of a sword. "You think so highly of yourself, Little Bird. But I wonder if your beloved Frenchman would think so much of you too, if he could see you now."

Were the tears that stung her eyes because of his disgusted words? Or because of her broken ribs? She didn't really want to attempt to distinguish her pain. His footsteps echoed down the hall and her bedroom door clicked gently shut behind him. Why was everything so quiet now that he was gone? She was expecting things to calm down when he was around, for him to sooth her mind like he had in the good old days, but so much for that; things had only gotten worse. She chuckled a little at the idea. 'The good old days'. They seemed so far away now, not that was all that long at all. She had only been a vampire for 6 months or so by the time of the Battle of London, but even by that point she had formed a strong attachment to her master. It felt odd to think that they had already grown so far apart by this point. She hardly knew him any more and was fairly certain that he didn't know her either.

'Maybe', she couldn't contain the thought and it raced across her mind, completely open to any prying eyes, 'It was time they went their separate ways…'. As for the beloved Frenchman… He wasn't really beloved and although she had decided to take him with her for eternity, it had been years since he had raised his head and spoken to her. It was as if he wasn't even there, the only evidence for his existence being the packet of cigarettes now abandoned under a dining chair and the roaring inferno that existed in her gut. It wasn't his addiction any more, it was hers.

* * *

**_A/N:_** Like I said, didn't explain much, feel free to have missed it out :P

Please drop me a review telling me what you liked, didn't like etc.

Feel free to make requests as well, I have already recieved a semi-request for a lemon/lime and I'm currently hunting for a method by which to bring that about, so any ideas would be great, maybe I'll combine a few, who knows!?

Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed it.

-Lapin


	5. The Damned

_**A/N:**_ One last installment before I leave for Thailand... It'll be a little while before I update again, around three weeks I imagine, so I thought I would quickly produce something for this collection, to hopefully tide you all over. Don't worry, I slid a little treat in there for you lot and I now know where this lemon is going to come from ;)

Anyway, please enjoy this latest installment:

* * *

The Damned.

She could hear him approaching – heavy boots falling hard on the wood of the stairs – and wondered dimly what his reaction would be to finding her this way. The bodies of the deceased littered the floor around her, dull grey drifts of dust piled against the walls, gathered in little powdery mounds in the centre of the room. A soft nightly breeze blew through the glassless window to disturb the dead and it carried the tendrils of her cigarette smoke out the door and into the corridor, swirling around the man advancing steadily towards her.

The great concrete monstrosity they stood in was now empty, but less than an hour before it had been home to a vampire coven. They had swept through, Master and Fledgling, like the wind, clearing the place out among the screams of the damned. Bullet holes riddled the walls and glass glittered faintly amongst the mess on the floor.

The unmistakeable silhouette of her master rounded the doorway, his hat gone and his glasses too. His hair was ruffled and his jacket was flecked with dust, but the eyes that met hers suggested nothing of the battle he had just engaged himself in. They looked just as fresh as if he had only then woken up. Angry. Predatory. Fixed on her. She averted her gaze to the window and the darkness beyond it, removing the cigarette from her lips but neglecting to release her smoke.

For a long time neither of them smoke and the silence seemed to lengthen the space between them, stretching until they were far apart. He didn't lift his gaze from her and she stared sullenly out of the window.

"Again."

"It's for Pip." She whispered and the smoke flew out into the room. The breeze caught it again and carried it to her master, but it slipped straight past him and out of the door. He wasn't breathing. He was ready for a fight. Ready for something.

"I miss him." Seras explained. Her actions tonight had been brutal and she required comfort, she needed to be accepted despite her smoking. She took another slow drag off her cigarette and held it in again. Waiting.

"Why? Can't you hear him?" The low timbre was almost comforting, said slowly, barely audible despite the quiet in the room. But it still held a sting to it that said he still disapproved.

"No." She confessed. A prickling feeling engaged behind her eyes and she slammed them shut, determined that she would not cry. She wasn't one to cry anymore.

"Hmmph," Was all the reply she was to get and the sharp crunch of her master's boots on the glass on the floor as he approached her.

Alucard mulled the thought over in his head as he watched his fledgling. She was leant against the windowsill, arms folded under her breasts, a cigarette dangling from her right hand, the rest of the box dangling from her left. Even from downstairs he could hear something wasn't right tonight, she was even more estranged than usual, even more violent. She dispatched her prey mercilessly, running from room to room as though drunk, chasing the terrified vampire brethren into corners before laughing merrily, the sounds of her cannon ringing through the building. This was something worth reporting to his master… If he couldn't take care of it himself.

A thin trail of red began to brim in her eyes, below her lashes and as the first tear fell on her right cheek he caught it with his thumb. "Look at me." He commanded, voice harsh.

She did, opening bloodshot eyes and turning them upon him, dark and deep and miserable. He felt a tickle in his mind and opened it up to the thought she pushed his way. 'How many people will I lose?'.

'More than you will ever remember having known.'

'Will it ever stop?'

'Eventually.'

'When?'

"When you stop caring, Seras." He said. The name Police Girl didn't fit her tonight and neither did Little Bird. She was neither of those tonight, she was someone he hadn't seen before and didn't know, but he was fairly sure – given that her reaction was one of quiet sadness and not panic – that she had seen this being before, this… Monster…

"Pip would never have lived forever." He said, brushing a tear from her other cheek as well. "He was impure and would never have made a worthy Vampire."

"If he had taken the blood…" Smoke rushed up into his nose and he turned his face away from the evil smelling stuff, but kept an eye fixed on her. They were barely a foot apart now and he took another step forward.

"He would never have stooped so low." The Frenchman had _some _measure of pride, he would give him that much at least.

She turned her eyes away and looked forlornly at her cigarette. It was almost to the filter. Gently, Alucard took it from her fingers and dropped it to join the dead on the floor. The sound it made when it hit the dust was inaudible, but it sounded like thunder to Seras, like the breaking of a bridge, the snap of something becoming irreparably ruined.

"When you have lived a hundred years; lost a hundred companions; walked a hundred lives of man… You will learn to forget about those you've left behind." He said. He was being so gentle with her tonight. She had expected, from the look in his eyes, that he would want to fight her over this. She had expected a beating, not gentle swipes of his gloved fingers across her cheeks, removing the treacherous tears she had not given permission to fall.

"I don't want to be alone for the rest of my death…" She mumbled, the last few words turning to sobs in her throat and she screwed her eyes shut again, offended by her own weakness.

"Look at me." He commanded her again, holding her face softly in both hands, tilting her head up so she would have no choice but to look him in the eyes. Reluctantly, she did as she was bidden. "I will never fade from your sight-" She took a tiny breath, "-So long as you do not fade from mine."

"Master…" The sob came as she closed her eyes again and the tears began to flow unchecked down her cheeks. He had thrown her a lifeline, offered her a certain degree of peace of mind; something she never dared even hope that he would do. She would never be alone as long as they stayed true to each other. He would last her a hundred lifetimes and more if she would just… Forget…

She bared her teeth as the ferocity of her grief for Pip shook her body. How could she forget? Pip was the true saviour of the Battle of London, they'd have gotten nowhere without him. _She_ would have gotten nowhere without him. To forget him would be to forget everything he had done for her, everything he had made her feel…

"Forget him, my Little Bird…" Alucard's deep voice sounded by her ear and the pressure of his arms landed on her back, her shoulders, pressing her into him. She crushed her face against his chest and the packet of cigarettes fell from her hand as she dug her fingers into his back, twisting them in the material of his coat.

"What if you leave me again?" She sobbed against his chest, the blood of her tears staining his front in blotches of red.

She felt him slide his fingers into her hair, tangling in the fine blonde strands and pulling them painfully, tugging her head away from his chest. Her neck bent at a painful angle as he smothered her lips with his. Their fangs clashed with the force of the kiss and Seras' mouth parted around a gasp of pain as her master's fingers fisted in her hair. One of his fangs caught on her lip and split it, spilling thick coppery blood to bloom against both their lips.

'I cannot be killed' He whispered along their mental bond, 'I will never leave you again'.

Her tears now flowed in a different direction over her cheeks and her fingers tightened to painful degrees on his back, but for the moment the cigarettes on the floor lay forgotten among the desiccated remains of the damned. Consenting to an eternity with Alucard was what she was doing now, again. But this time, unlike that night in Cheddar, she knew what she was signing up for. This would not be pretty, it would not be pleasant. There would not be many occasions when he would go out of his way to make things easier for her and moments like these – kisses she had imagined with princes or knights in her childhood naivety – would be gruelling and uncomfortable. But he would always be there. He couldn't be killed. He would never disappear and leave her to be damned for eternity. Unlike…

All she had needed was coaxing and she had returned to the girl he had left behind 30 years ago. No more smoke in the air – although he could still taste it on her lips – no more French men in her head. Only him, the way it ought to be. There would be no need to report this to Sir Integra, it was much too personal, much too _vampire_ to expose to his master. Privacy could be a blessing sometimes and although he would have to fess up if faced with a direct order, he would protect his Little Bird until then.

* * *

_**A/N:**_ That's all folks, I hope you enjoyed that and I hope Alucard didn't seem OOC - I've been having trouble keeping the big boy pinned down lately.

You know the drill by now, please review and tell me what you thought, improvements, suggestions, blah blah blah...

Ok, g'night!

-Lapin


	6. The Living

_**A/N:**_ A little break for you with this one, not very dark at all, not very OOC. Well... Maybe a little, but very little compared to normal. Apologies about the long wait, but I was on holiday and therefore not working *wink wink*, so nothing was to be posted for a good long while. But now I'm back so the updates will resume some regularity. Lime incoming, but not this chapter.

Please enjoy this latest installment.

* * *

The Living.

Blood, dripping down, no, _pouring_ down her legs… Outlining every indent, every muscle, running in rivulets along her back, over her skin, around the soft white of feminine curves… He couldn't take his eyes from her as she stood at the top of the stairs, dark eyes passing over the room at large, never stopping on one person for very long. Never stopping on him. He shook his head as her ruby encrusted shoes – when did Sir Integra start paying a wage? – hit the top step and she began her descent into the ballroom. That dress was going to catch a lot of attention, mostly his (he hoped) because she was the only one who had opted for wearing red. Blood red no less. She was really getting into this whole vampyrress thing, wasn't she, he thought with a low chuckle. He himself had gone for a black ensemble, coat and tails, waistcoat, white dress shirt, black cravat. He fitted in wonderfully. She did not.

Seras felt odd, walking down those stairs dressed as she was, but put up her best show of confidence and descended the stairs as gracefully as she could. Luckily she had an extra 30 years of experience over the last time she had to wear high-heels in public and Sir Integra had insisted Seras practice walking on heels for exactly these sorts of occasions; the annual, round-table dinner party. This year it was Hellsing's turn to host and Seras was allowed to attend – post dinner for obvious reasons. So was Alucard, but she doubted it would really be his thing, besides, she couldn't see him anywhere. What she _had_ seen though was Sir Integra standing among a group of guests and looking as though she could use a distraction – for the group of guests that was. And that was where Seras came in.

She reached the bottom of the stairs and the crowd in front of her parted like the proverbial red sea, clearing her path to her Mistress. She crossed the floor as quickly as she dared – lest she run the risk of stepping on her own dress and falling arse over teakettle in front of a crowd of avid on-lookers – and finally came upon Sir Integra's elbow. She took hold of it gently to indicate her arrival.

"Ah, Seras," Sir Integra breathed a sigh of relief as she turned to her pet monster, and took a sharp inhale at the sight of her dress. "That's a very… nice… dress."

Seras looked down, inspecting herself. She didn't think it was that bad. Sure it was a little skin tight and it didn't really leave much for the imagination, but it covered her breasts well enough and went all the way down to the floor. The split wasn't even to her hip so she didn't know what Sir Integra was hinting at. If it was the colour, at least it wasn't scarlet; she would have _really_ looked amiss then. The colour was merely for attracting the attention of her master, to show him she wasn't a 'little bird' anymore, she was a fully grown and matured 'bird' and ought to be treated with the sort of respect one gave to fully grown 'birds', such as herself. She had even taken the time to curl her hair and pin it to her head in swirls and ruby pins, pulling her fringe out of her face but letting two curling tendrils remain to frame her face. Her make-up was probably the least daring thing about the whole get-up, dark red lipstick and some black around her eyes. She personally thought she looked rather fetching, but apparently no one else shared her opinion.

"I thought it would allow you some space to breathe, Sir." Seras replied evenly, then inclined her head in the direction of the group of people who had previously been swamping Sir Integra, but who now seemed more intent on staring at her.

Sir Integra raised an eyebrow and gave her a tiny nod, before returning to her conversation, although it took a few seconds for the person she was trying to talk to to begin paying her any attention.

Alucard swallowed thickly. The dress was backless. What _was_ she trying to do? Attract the attention of the entire room? Certainly most of the males in the vicinity seemed to be paying her a lot more attention than the women they came with and even Sir Integra was having a hard time occupying her guests' attention, what with Seras standing right next to her.

He reached for her in his thoughts, probing at the walls she'd put up against his intrusions and found a tiny hole. But she felt his attentions and slammed the hole shut again before he could get a hold on it. He grimaced. He was beginning to feel antsy, what with the number of people who were now staring at her, some of them without even attempting to hide the fact… She was _his_ fledgling and not just some common harpy to be drooled over like a roasted joint.

One young man actually got up the courage to go and ask her for a dance. She looked as though she was going to accept, but an incredulous and slightly disgusted look from Sir Integra put paid to that. She refused the young man and he trudged dejectedly back to his deeply unhappy girlfriend. Alucard clamped down on the growl he felt welling in his throat, he was not some dog, panting after his bitch and snapping at any other males who approached her. He was the No Life King for pity's sake!

That dress really did look criminally good on her though, and with her hair like that he could see her whole face. And those red lips… She looked like how he imagined she would after a feed, with the blood of her victim still staining her lips, deathly white skin offsetting the red… He wondered what she looked like after feeding actually; he'd never seen it himself, only assuming through the growth of her powers that she'd drunk blood on a regular enough basis to allow herself to develop. He made a mental note to attempt feeding her in the near future, maybe even tonight if she was hungry later…

Chuckling at the notion of taking his fledgling out for dinner, he crossed the room, weaving gracefully between the dancing people to appear at Seras' shoulder. The people in front of them threw him worried looks.

Seras frowned, a few moments ago they were enraptured by her – which was quite a good feeling actually, much better than the reactions she got from icicle-dick whenever she thought she looked quite cute – but now they looked frightened of her. Why?

Suddenly a looming presence appeared at her back and the reasons behind their fright made itself known. A cold pair of lips landed softly on her cheek and Seras immediately began to scowl. She couldn't help it, it was a stock reaction. "Sir Integra," She interrupted the older woman's rather one-sided conversation, "The barbarian has arrived."

"Ah, Alucard," Sir Integra greeted him, glad of what promised to be a more entertaining conversation than the one she'd just left. "Good of you to join us."

"I've been watching." He drawled, making his opinion of this little party very well known. After all, the parties he threw when he was alive far outstripped this one in both style and company. They were already at least 20 minutes into the last section and still no one had died. It was boring.

"Yes, well" Sir Integra gave Seras a small push – which was actually as hard as Sir Integra _could_ push the stronger female – in the direction of her Master and the vampyrress took one small step back. "Take Seras away and do something with her please."

Seras looked immediately horrified – as _if_ he would do anything to her – but Alucard merely cracked a small smile and nodded. "As you wish, my Master."

"Wait!" Seras took a few hurried steps forwards as Sir Integra began to move off. "Why are you dumping me with _him_?"

"Because you're too much of a distraction," Sir Integra said, waving the two monsters away, "None of these old men can keep their eyes inside their heads with you around."

And then she was gone and Seras was all alone with the man behind her, who was pulling the dirtiest grin she had ever felt him pull.

"Please don't leer." She said frostily over her shoulder. "It's unbecoming of you."

"Please don't scowl, the wind will change and you'll be stuck that way."

"I'm scowling because you have a dirty and foul mind."

"Master's orders, Police Girl."

"She said do 'something', she didn't say what it was you had to do though."

"Precisely." She felt his gloved hand land in the small of her back and he began to turn them both around until they were facing the dance floor. The dance at the minute was a slow-waltz and the floor was largely empty. "I feel like dancing."

"I don't know how to dance." She lied quickly. She had been forced to take dancing lessons too. Sir Integra could be quite odd sometimes and with both Alucard and Walter gone, along with most of the old crowd, Seras and Sir Integra had grown quite close, and Sir Integra even stranger. One of the many outcomes of her strangeness was the dancing lessons.

"I'll teach you." He said, giving no room for complaints or excuses, pushing her out onto the floor and taking one of her hands.

If Seras could have blushed under all the colouring she was wearing, when he grabbed a hold of her waist and pulled them closer together, she would have done. It was all well and good dancing with the dance teacher, but she was old enough by now to be his mother and, well, this was her master! The circumstances were extremely different! It was just plain embarrassing to be held in an intimate fashion by a man she had kissed, been kissed by, held still while he gave her the world's most permanent hickey and who's coffin she had cried beside! She had never thought during those dancing lessons that she would be using them with her master. It just hadn't crossed her mind.

"You look," He grumbled when she assumed the rest of the position on her own, "As though you've done this before."

"I might have done." She said and took the initiative to pull them into motion, although he was determined after that to take the lead.

"Then you lied." He scowled and spat her words back at her. "It's unbecoming of you."

* * *

Sir Integra chanced a glance over her shoulder to see how her pets were doing and saw Seras laughing at something Alucard had said. He on the other hand was glowering something terrible. The people around them seemed a little distracted, as though they were caught in the presence of two particularly mesmerising people, even though they were trying their best not to look bothered. At least the two vampires seemed to be getting along.

* * *

"Lying is not a joke, Police Girl." He growled at her. He did _not_ enjoy being laughed at.

"And a vampire giving lectures on ethics isn't?" She laughed again, but under her breath this time. "Short of murder, I thought lying was going to be right up there with the best of them."

"Best of what?"

"Ten commandments most begging to be broken."

"Are you a religious girl, Police Girl?" He asked and she had to think for a moment. It was strange, they had now spent a good 4 weeks in each other's company on top of the months upon months they had had before the Battle of London and the subsequent separation, and still knew relatively nothing about each other.

"Not really." She mumbled, rightly guessing that he was, or at least had been. Everybody was religious way back when…

"But you know of the ten commandments."

"Just because I know they're there, doesn't mean I have to believe in them. It's the same with vampires."

He raised a quizzical brow, bidding her continue. She did, although she thought the reasoning she presented herself with would most likely not satisfy the curiosity of her master. "Just because I can see them, doesn't mean I have to believe in them."

"Vampires exist because of God, Police Girl."

"You can't know that for sure."

"Then follow my thoughts."

She swallowed thickly at the thought. She wasn't sure what she might find and wasn't sure she would know what to do with the knowledge that she might gain. Who knew what darkness welled in the many deep echelons of her master's mind?

"I'd rather not…" She mumbled and received a dark chuckle in reply.

"The first vampire became what he was because God had forsaken him." He explained, softly enough that the other dancers couldn't hear, but firmly enough to have Seras enthralled. She had always had a love of stories and this particular one seemed very personal indeed. "He was a very religious child and when he was taken captive-"

"Captive?"

"By the Turkish Emperor – He prayed for God to save him from his fate."

"But he got no answer."

"Exactly. He got no answers to anything he asked for. He grew up realising that a simple allegiance to God would get him nowhere."

"So he abandoned his religion?"

"No, he still believes in God, but he knows now that God rewards hard work and that God's favour must be earnt. So he killed his enemies, destroyed his friends, wasted his people and ruined his country, all to gain God's favour."

"Why did he ruin his country? Was it sick?" Just like a child… So naïve still…

A grim chuckle and a smile that would have curled her toes – and not in a good way - if he wasn't still pulling her in graceful circles around the dance floor was what that question apparently deserved. "The _world_ was sick then, Police Girl. He ruined his country because he was trying to win back the land he had lost as a child, to the Turkish Emperor."

"Did he manage it?"

"You seem very interested in this, Police Girl."

* * *

Sir Integra felt her eye twitch. Again. Damn those vampires, being so smooth and graceful, attracting the attention of nearly everyone in the room. They were dancing so quickly, but faultlessly, and were getting faster and faster the longer she watched them. Alucard was talking – a lot more than usual – and Seras would say something occasionally, but seemed lost in whatever it was he was saying, as though she wasn't really paying attention to anything but him; not the dance, or the music, or anyone else in the room. How sweet.

Sir Integra rolled her eyes with a noise of disgust and made to carry on with her conversation but then; Did she just fucking blush?! Could vampire's even do that? Could Alucard even elicit that kind of response?

No, she definitely blushed and she was biting her lip, averting her eyes and Alucard – the damned smarmy bastard – was grinning like an evil Cheshire cat. That was enough.

* * *

Alucard grinned widely, showing off all of his teeth, blunt and disguised, but evil enough to make the room at large shiver. He had been delving into his master's thoughts – something he knew he shouldn't be doing, but which he only ought not to be doing if he was going to get himself caught, which he never was – and had discovered that she was angry at them – or more specifically Seras – for attracting a lot of attention.

She was also cross at Seras for seeming to be attracted to him. It was almost enough to make him laugh. The very idea of Seras feeling attracted to something much darker than herself was preposterous. She might be jaded and a little surface-scratched, but inside she was still the same young woman who wanted something better out of her life and her partners. It was why the damned Frenchman had been so appealing, while it lasted.

He stilled their dancing when Sir Integra began virtually elbowing her way through the crowd towards them. In his arms, Seras seemed confused, almost out of breath with the situation.

"So what happened to him?" She prompted, apparently not having noticed the female behemoth approaching at her 6 o'clock. "Did he win back his land?"

Alucard smiled, but didn't reply. This was promising to be excellent entertainment and he didn't want either of them to miss it because of his overly inquisitive fledgling. Besides, he could tell her another time, when she was old enough and wise enough to understand why he looked at God the way he did.

Eventually, Sir Integra reached them and the determined clacking of her heels on the marble floor attracted Seras' attention. She turned in his arms and both of them assumed expressions that were the picture of innocence.

"Are the pair of you insane?" Sir Integra snapped, not allowing them any time to question her approach. "Are you trying to ruin this evening with your acrobatics?"

Seras opened her mouth to complain, but Sir Integra cut her off, holding up a hand for silence. She recovered herself and then said, in a very level and business-like tone, "You're causing a distraction. Leave."

"Leave?!" Seras seemed horrified. Alucard was only too glad to comply. "But this is the first time-!"

"And the last." Sir Integra snapped and pointed a hand in the direction of the stairs. "Now go, and don't bother picking up any refreshments on the way out." This order seemed to be directed especially in Alucard's direction.

"Yes, my Master." He accepted her orders eagerly, sweeping a bow and sending a harsh mental-command in Seras' direction. She also begrudgingly took a bow and muttered her acceptance, before allowing him to steer her through the medium of a hand on the small of her back in the direction of the stairs.

They ascended side by side, taking their time and causing – if at all possible – even more of a distraction with their exit than they did with their entrances. The mysterious beauty of the ballroom was leaving with the tall, dark, charismatic man with the smouldering eyes… What was their relationship? Was this a one night thing? Was it for far longer than just tonight? What would they do now that they were leaving? But most of all the thoughts that Alucard intercepted seemed to run along the lines of 'Who are they?'.

"What are you smiling at?" Seras grumbled, a bit miffed about having to leave the party early.

"The living. They want to know who we are." He replied, dryly.

"And whether we're sleeping together." She grumbled, clearly distressed by the idea. He didn't think it was such a bad thing, to be assumed to have a lover in the wings, particularly one with the capacity to steal the breath from your lungs…

"Perhaps we should." He whispered to her, his wide, toothy grin growing ever wider as she gawped at the side of his face. The shock – and the fear – was rolling off her in waves and it washed over him like a sweet nectar he had longed for for hundreds of years…

"M-master…" She growled, a beautiful pink blush dusting her cheeks and as they disappeared from the prying eyes of the guests in the ball room, she abandoned him, slipping out of his arm and seeping immediately into the floor. She had run away to the dungeons before he had even the chance to laugh. Her last thought before she left was a calculation of exactly how hard she could brain him before he lost his temper and attacked her. Apparently it wasn't very far…

* * *

A/N: Please leave a review about the chapter, critique, praise, suggestions, requests (phrases would be great, rather than just objects) will also be accepted. The only request I've got at the minute is for Lemon and Lime to appear in the next few chapters. Now I think you'll agree that's not much to work with - they all seem to follow along the same general lines - so others would be greatly appreciated. Thank you.

Thank you for enjoying this latest installment!

-Lapin


	7. The Forgotten

_**A/N:**_Ello, another one so soon, I know, but I just can't help myself :D Anyway, this one is rather short, but full of little goodies for yous, so there ought not to be many complaints. It is a **stand alone chapter** which adds absolutely nothing to the present situation. Think of it as being set in the past, set before Alucard wakes up.

So, without further ado, please enjoy this latest installment.

* * *

The Forgotten.

She would wake in the evening, climb into the shower and wash the sleep from her body, rubbing half-hearted soapy circles into her dead flesh. No thoughts slipped past her net, the one she'd thrown up to protect herself from the reality that raged on in her world. Inside her chambers it was quiet, still, dark. She never bothered with the lights anymore; why should she? Her eyes worked better in the dark now anyway and she wasn't in the habit of denying herself a good thing… A better thing…

Towel less, she would dress herself with military precision; gloves first, underwear second, then socks, her undershirt, then uniform shirt, skirt, tie and eventually the armband that dictated her possession by the Hellsing family. It was the same every morning and done in utter silence.

Although her exit of her chambers would signal her entry into the hell of the outside, there was never any lingering. Her trek to the garrison was always made on steady feet and never took any longer than it had to. When she spoke her voice obeyed her commands and it never shook.

Her nights lasted as long as they always had and nothing was ever different about the way she did her job. She joked, she laughed loudly, she killed those upon whom Sir Integra's finger fell and she did it all with a dazzlingly bright and chirpy smile. But it was a lie…

Even though the things she did seemed no different from anything she had done in the past; sleeping with the lights off; staying by herself in the evenings when she wasn't needed… They were the things she had to do to keep her thoughts off of him.

Her hands shook. They wouldn't hold her gun properly. It was such a problem that she had to ask for a pair of Katana from Sir Integra in order to dispatch her foes. They didn't want to understand why he wasn't there anymore. They didn't want to know why they were partaking in her evening rituals, helping to prepare her for another night without him.

Her eyes didn't have this problem. They saw what was there to be seen, he wasn't appearing as a mirage at the ends of corridors, he wasn't even appearing in her dreams. They saw the reality that faced them and seemed to accept it for the most part.

Her hands though… Were they wiser than her eyes? Knowing that she wasn't alright with this? They shook because this was something they couldn't break down and rearrange the way they wanted. They were angry. Every time she thought she would be alright, it was her hands that always proved her wrong. The cups of tea she served to Sir Integra in Walter's place had little flecks of spilt tea on the saucer. Her make-up was always slightly squiffy these days, wobbly lines tracking around her eyes. Not enough to be noticeable to a living eye, but they were noticeable to her.

When they put her to bed in the mornings, they clutched at the sheets she pulled around herself and when her eyes were finally shut… They broke down the walls around her that she threw up each evening, allowing her to break down with them… Thoughts of him crept in, the smile, the eye, his laugh… Her last thought was always of him… The first kiss... Her first love…

* * *

_**A/N:**_ Adds absolutely nothing to the story, I know, but I wrote it and by golly I'm going to publish it! Cyber cookies to anyone who can tell me which song inspired my to write this, the options are:

A) My All - Mariah Carey  
B) My Hands - Leona Lewis  
C) Snuff - Slipknot

Cyber cookies also go to everyone who can tell me who the story is about! See ya 'round!

-Lapin


	8. The Poisoned Drink

_**A/N:**_ Ahhh! The first lime! Watch out people, it's here, it's queer and it's a little early really, but it's okay, because I can work this in, no problems ;) Just ask my vodka bottle, it'll tell you!

Anyway, please enjoy this latest installment.

* * *

The Poisoned Drink.

"Join me…" He purred across the silence in between them and she froze in the doorway. She was only here to deliver his meal and then she was planning on going to bed, curling up with a good book – perhaps Ann Rice's Interview With A Vampire – and having an early evening to herself. Entering her master's abode for more than a few seconds was not part of her plan, she was even already dressed in her silk nighty!

"Dine with me…" he purred again, the sound almost a growl, putting fire in her blood as it reached across the room to her ears.

"I didn't plan-"

"Come and feed with me, Police Girl."

Her eyebrow twitched and she entered the room despite herself. Nobody else called her 'Police Girl' anymore, only him and she had even managed to ditch the name 'Kitten' thanks to the attitude she had adopted. Any use of either nick-name felt like a challenge to her authority and strength nowadays, especially from him and she was unable to help herself, but to respond.

She brought the ice-bucket with her as she crossed the room, making sure not to make any sound, be as quiet as she could. He was sat in his usual spot, on his throne and she placed the bucket on the table beside him.

"Take one." He said, gesturing a hand to the bucket. She raised an eyebrow in suspicion – he had never requested her to 'dine' with him before – but reached a hand into the bucket anyway and pulled out a packet.

He followed suit and picked up one of the wine glasses that was also sat, already ready, on the table. He offered it to her.

"No thanks," She replied, the packet already on its way to her mouth, "I'll take mine from the bag."

Now it was his turn to cock an eyebrow as he sliced the packet open on the side of the glass and allowed the contents to spill into the vessel. He had expected her eating methods to be more refined – he knew the rest of her behaviour had certainly taken more of a turn toward the sophisticated and the dignified – but she simply stuck the packet in her mouth and chowed down. Her blood was finished within seconds, while he was merely swilling his.

She tossed the empty packet back in the bucket and turned around to leave, but a chair arrived suddenly out of the gloom and scooped her up, spinning her back around and trapping her so her knees were in between those of her Master. She raised her eyebrow again and he held out another packet. Did he want her to drink the whole bucket worth? Granted there were only 6 bags in there, but he had yet to take even a single sip of what was in his glass and she would be drunk and game for anything by bag number 4. If she made it to the fifth one… Well Lord alone knew what would happen.

The last time she had been blood drunk, she had had to be tranquilized with enough ketamine to take out a charging bull elephant and that was after she'd run herself ragged taking out a brothel's worth of vampire prozzies… She would hate to see Sir Integra's face if that sort of behaviour was running riot in the old lady's basement…

She took the packet anyway and stuck her teeth in it, but she was going to take her time with this one. No chugging her food, no knocking them back, no getting drunk. She was going to bide her time, stay for a little while, maybe until bag three, hopefully encourage him to drink the rest, and then she was going to totter back to her chambers and sleep it all off, hoping to all things satanic and deadly that she didn't wake up with the mother of all headaches the next morning.

"Do you like the blood, Police Girl?" His smooth, low, almost sultry voice pulled her back into the room and away from her thoughts. She grit her teeth against the lure of the name and kept her cool, sipping slowly at her food and nodding slightly.

"You're not drinking very much." He mused, finally taking a sip of his drink. The blood coloured his pale lips red, but then his tongue swiped the lot clean and she was presented with a close lipped smile. Suspicious.

"I was about to go to bed." She explained, unfastening her teeth from her bag long enough to speak, then refastening them again to avoid having to say anything else.

"With another Vampire book." There was humour in his voice and an almost twinkle in his eyes. His eyes never really twinkled, they only ever smouldered, like burning embers… Still hot from the coals of hell itself…

She shrugged, there was nothing wrong with her reading vampire books, she was a vampire herself after all.

"Then you should know that most of it is lies."

"I don't care if it's lies or not, you've never taught me anything about being a vampire. I've had to teach myself everything."

"Like how we melt in sunlight, or glitter like diamonds?"

"No, that's a bunch of shit. All I've got from the sunlight was the nastiest case of sunstroke and a missing 16 hours of sleep."

He laughed, the level of smouldering going on in his eyes reaching tantalising levels. "I'm glad to hear you say that, but really, Ann Rice thought we died in sunlight."

"I know, I've read The Vampire Lestat before, and Interview with a Vampire."

"Then why read it again?"

She shrugged, tossing her now empty packet back in the bucket to join the first and scooping up a new blood bag. "I like the literature. She writes in a very nice way."

"It's pleasing, isn't it…" He was back on the purring thing and his eyes were beginning to slide shut. He was obviously comfortable with his situation. "I always liked the woman… Although she would believe anything…"

Seras paused in her feeding, considering his words for a minute. Believe anything? Did he know her personally? Did he tell her anything about vampires? Was _he_ the vampire she interviewed?

His lips cracked open to reveal a row of sharp teeth and the grin told her everything she needed to know. She huffed. "So you're the reason I keep getting stabbed with stakes and have people throwing garlic at me."

"You've actually been staked?" He sounded surprised, although his eyes were now closed and the infuriating smouldering was, for now at least, hidden behind thick black lashes and bone white eyelids.

"Twice." She grumbled and he chuckled. "It's not funny!" She whined, although the sound of him laughing was honestly good for her heart. There wasn't enough laughter in this gloomy dungeon. Not since Walter…

"The garlic had nothing to do with me." He said with a smile. "I don't know where that came from."

"Well," She growled, "It wasn't very pleasant. I was sick all over the place and while it didn't kill me, having three bulbs of unpeeled garlic shoved up my nose… _Anyone_ would be lucky not to choke to death on that!"

He let out a bark of laughter and brought his glass up to his lips for another sip. Before she knew it, Seras had been through her third bag and this empty packet joined the others with a guilty air. He however had taken, at most, three sips from his glass.

"I think," She stood up and wobbled a bit, "That I should go."

His eyes opened slowly as she struggled to get around his knees and she blinked stupidly at him, the smouldering eyes and the words that passed his lips rendering her immobile. "Stay here today…"

Stay? Like… All day? With him? "But I'm tired."

"My coffin is big enough."

Now it was her turn to laugh, the sound filling the otherwise empty dungeon, but being devoid of all warmth. "I'm not sharing with you!"

"There's no need to be afraid, Police Girl."

"I'm not afraid!"

Another smile graced his lips, one that said he didn't believe her for even a minute. One that said she was afraid, not of him, but of what she might do if surrounded by everything that made him him.

"I'm _not_ afraid." She insisted, but he could see quite clearly the red tint across her cheeks that said she had drunk too much and wasn't really feeling herself. He gestured to her chair.

"Then stay."

Her bottom hit the seat with a thud and she stared sullenly as he took up another blood bag and offered it to her. She swiped it from his clutches with a surly expression and he swilled his drink gently as she bit into her food.

* * *

"But it wazzn't my fault." Seras mumbled, picking at her fourth empty blood bag and glowering. "How wuz I zuppozed to know there wuz a wall there? I didn't mean to knock her head ovv…"

"It was just a happy coincidence." Alucard said happily. He was quite enjoying himself. Around half way through the fourth bag his little bird had asked him how many people he'd ever decapitated. He said he couldn't remember. She said she couldn't either and then along came this long list of gruesome kills she had committed. He really _was_ pleased she had accepted his invitation to stay a while longer. So much darkness was coming out of the woodwork… He felt like a kid at Christmas; her mind, while the drink had rendered her incapable of defending herself, had left her mind _wide_ open. And he intended to take all the liberties he could.

* * *

_This was a chipped vampire, she could feel the little bumps on the back of their neck, just brushing against her fingertips. The blue eyes stared at her, disbelief colouring them and an attempt at a word was made, but only a gargle escaped around her hand. She tore her first from the oesophagus and blood erupted from the wound, shooting like a geyser towards her and covering her lips, chin and throat in red._

_The vampire fell to the floor and began to bleed out, the eyes rolling in their head as blood dripped from Seras' fingertips. This was safe to drink, this vampire was only half real; she raised her index finger to her mouth and began sucking the blood from it…_

"_Why are you doing this?!" The questions were all the same. 'Why are you doing this?'; 'who are you?'; 'why won't you help me?'. She stepped over the fallen vampire and walked towards the humans cowering in the corner. She wrinkled her nose, there was enough piss steaming in the road to curdle her appetite and the blood that squirted in jets from the stump of the vampire's missing leg was beginning to mix with it. They ran together and mingled, creating a powerful and gut wrenching odour._

"_Oiy!" The vampire called as she approached his food._

"_I'm doing this," She turned around to look at him, hefting Harkonnen over her shoulder, "Because you are scum." He looked confused. "You prey on the living, take lives that don't belong to you. You turn little children-" his eyes flicked to the small body laying crumpled on the ground "-into shuffling piles of dead flesh. You are not a vampire that can be left alone to walk the world of the living. The No Life King will judge you in hell."_

"_No Life…"_

"_And he will find you lacking."_

"_Who __**are**__ you?"_

"_His emissary."_

* * *

"_Tick, tock, tick, tock…" The voice echoed around the large and deserted hall, lending an ethereal glow to the evening. The glass cases of the museum were already streaked in blood and the bodies of several uniformed security guards were piled by the elevator. By the looks of things, this mission wouldn't take long, but Seras could still hear hurried footsteps somewhere upstairs. They belonged to someone different from the voice._

_She walked to the elevator and pushed the button for it to come, waiting patiently and calculating from the distance of the noise that she would have to go to the seventh floor to reach the running person in time. The elevator arrived and she got in._

_The lift music on the way up was excruciatingly painful, but it didn't last long and soon she arrived on the seventh floor. She heard, as she exited the elevator, the clang of a metal door bouncing off a wall and the footsteps were getting further away again, going up still. She knew immediately what was happening; the human was going up, trying to get to the roof. She took off at a run towards the stairs that would lead her to the roof and, upon reaching the stairwell, pushed off the banisters and shot up the middle of the stairwell. Harkonnen was strapped to her back so she wasn't as swift or graceful as she would have liked, but she made it to the top of the stairs before the human did – he was only a faintly blue coloured blur in the darkness as she passed – and exited onto the roof, leaping up to the small, three meter square roof that housed the stair well._

_The footsteps on the stairs slowed to a halt as they approached the open roof door, but a head appeared around the lip, peering tentatively out into the night. The fear was rolling off them in waves, permeating the air and it had Seras' head swimming within seconds. It was the same heady, giddy feeling she had got when Pip had kissed her…_

_Too scared to stay inside, the human emerged from the doorway and crept into the night, looking around to make sure nothing else was out there, that the coast was clear and his life was not yet done. While he was edging ever further away from the doorway another set of footsteps, so quiet that Seras herself nearly missed them, sounded on the stairs. She readied Harkonnen and crept up to the edge of her roof, pointing her weapon straight down._

_The figure appeared at the doorway and Harkonnen's rocket split them from head to toe. The deafening explosion that met the otherwise silent night was countered perfectly by the quiet peeling sound that followed, juxtaposing it in the darkness. The remaining threads of tissue unstuck themselves from one another and the two half-vampire pieces keeled over onto the roof._

_The screams were quick to follow._

* * *

_Ripping, tearing flesh. The bubble and pop of cartilage separating from itself. The cries of all present as the neck was cleft from the shoulders and fell, to bounce once, twice upon the floor. Seras' booted feet squeaked on the floor as she turned away, the body collapsing forward past her shoulder, and faced the room at large. They looked on in horror as she raised her arms – her right arm bloody from where she had sent it through the first man's neck – and smiled at them. Tonight was going to be fun._

* * *

"I juz wanted to dizdragd myzelv." She slurred, leaning forward and dropping her empty packet in the bucket. The motion was apparently too much for her though because she overbalanced and tipped herself into her Master's lap. He nearly smiled at the amusing manner in which she flailed when she fell, but instead spat a mouthful of blood across her back when she put a hand down on his crotch.

She apparently hadn't noticed the blood on her back, but she noticed the noise and the look on his face, wide-eyed and a bit uncomfortable. She looked down at her hand – planted firmly in his private area – and blinked at it, before looking back at him with a slightly mischievous look on her face. He swallowed, wondering just what it was that she was planning on doing.

She opened her hand – previously fisted – and pressed her palm down. He raised his glass to his lips with a raise of his eyebrow and she pressed a little more before alleviating the pressure. He didn't react very much at all, but then again she didn't really know what she was doing. She looked down again at her hand. What _was_ she doing exactly?

He smiled at the top of her head. She didn't know what to do with it, did she? But of course she wouldn't, that silly Frenchman hadn't gotten around to teaching her that much. It would be up to him to teach his fledgling the pleasures of the flesh. But now?

"Do you want me to help you, Police Girl?" He purred above her head and she nodded. Some help would be a good idea.

He raised an eyebrow, slightly surprised at her affirmation – but then why should he? A lot had changed while he'd been away – and put his glass down on the table before taking hold of her legs and adjusting her so she fell better across his lap. She let out a small sigh as her thighs fell either side of his and he pulled them flush against one another.

"Put your hands on my shoulders." He told her, waiting patiently for her to settle her palms on his shoulders, the nails of her fingers already beginning to bite half-moons into his coat. Gently he sunk his fingers into her hair and urged her head back. It fell back without resistance. Perhaps she was a little too drunk for this. Nevertheless he pulled her up to him so her breasts were brushing his chest and he had unfettered access to her neck.

She thought, as soft, cold kisses began to land upon her collarbones, that this wasn't what she thought he meant when he offered her a hand. She thought he meant he would help her with him, not help her with her. Not that it mattered all that much, but she was more interested in _his_ reactions, not hers.

The impulse carrying them, the fingers of her right hand unfastened themselves from his coat, slipping down past his lapels and inside. It was ice-cold. She struggled a little, but managed to push it from his shoulder, copying the action with her left hand until his coat lay crumpled around his elbows. She could feel his smile against her skin and she squirmed a little under his lips.

So, she wanted him out of his clothes. He wondered if she would appreciate what she saw when she got under the bottom layer. He certainly thought it was one of the best things about him. It was the only thing about him which could reasonably be labelled as original. Over the 700+ years of his un-life, that at least had not changed, though it was very seldom seen. Sir Integra had only seen it once herself.

The next thing Seras attempted to remove was the cravat. It was difficult with her neck bent at such an angle and the movements of her Master's lips; sucking, licking, grazing her skin… She couldn't concentrate. She was caught in a drunken, sensual haze that was – at least somewhat – new to her. Sure, she'd touched herself once or twice over the 30 odd years she'd spent alone, but this was very different and they hadn't even gotten to the most important bit yet!

She reached a hand behind her head and untangled his fingers from her hair, letting her head back up to where it was meant to be. But lifting it was _such_ an effort and she ended up sort of rolling it across her shoulder.

She rolled her head across her shoulder, the sun-bright locks of her hair catching and then drooping forwards, some strands swinging to catch on his waistcoat. She looked so relaxed like that, as though the very movement itself was testament to how happy she was to be sat with him like this. Her thoughts however told him otherwise. She had left both doors hanging wide open and it was obvious that she was far too drunk to contain herself. Like for example she was currently examining the material of his waistcoat and wondering what it was made of, even as she rolled her hips slowly over his. He grinned. She was like an open book.

"Are you bored with me already, Police Girl?" He asked, clearly referring to her in-depth inspection of his clothing.

"Nuh-uh." She shook her head, raising it to look him in the eyes, a soft, kitten-like expression coming over her face. "I'm enjoying myself."

He raised an eyebrow. Good to know. He tilted her chin a little, drawing her in, inviting her to make the first real move towards anything they would go on to do that night. She took it.

His lips were thin, slanted in a cocky grin, begging her to taste them, to touch them with her lips. She still remembered the metallic, slightly spicy flavour of their last kiss and wondering if this time would taste any different. It didn't. Their lips fit together so well… Although he was frozen and unresponsive, it was as though he was a perfect match for her. She sucked his bottom lip gently, nibbling along it, drawing blood. It tasted like fire on her tongue…

He didn't bother moving, or kissing her back. There wasn't any point really. Her head hit his shoulder before long and he heaved a sigh. So long sweet deliverance, it looked as though he would have to wait a little while yet. It was his fault for getting her drunk anyway. He could tell she was going to fall asleep from the second their lips touched, little bits of her thought started shutting down, her movements weren't as defined as they were when she was awake, the biting took a full minute for example and he didn't have the time to wait around and kiss her for hours and hours. If they were going to do anything at all, it would all be done and dusted in well under an hour.

He tipped her body more so onto his shoulder and began turning her round, so he could properly get a hold of her legs and pick her up. She was bloody heavy for such a small vampire, but then again he had just filled her with all that blood, so he guessed that this was his fault as well. He shrugged his coat back onto his shoulders and began the trek towards her chambers. There was no point in trying to bleed through the walls to get there; she had to be awake for that to work. It was one of the reasons he had never been able to spirit girls away and had to suck their blood while they slept in their own beds. If they were asleep then he couldn't manipulate their forms. It was a sort of philosophy-entering-the-real-world scenario. Descartes had hit upon it when he said 'Cogito ergo sum', when someone was unconscious, the world for them ceased to exist – or something like that. It wasn't really important, it was just inconvenient.

He thought about putting her in his coffin and letting her sleep there, but she would take his head off in the morning if she remembered any of it. And if she didn't remember there would be several difficult questions to answer. Namely 'Why am I here?' and 'What happened last night?'. He hardly thought 'You fell asleep while you were kissing me' or 'we were engaging in foreplay' would suffice as answers. It was just better for everyone if she slept in her own damned coffin. At least that way he wouldn't be plagued by images of her sleep mussed hair or sleepy, confused red eyes, the realisation of her situation dawning in them and her plump, pink lips parting around an 'oh', or worse yet (!) being caught between her teeth as she tried to think of what to say. No, at least this way, the only images he would have to contend with would be the sight of her bending over backwards to accommodate him, allow him unfettered access to the white expanse of throat, allowing him to lavish her skin with adoration; the sight of her eyes slipping shut behind brown eyelashes, the deep red orbs half-lidded and lustful as they settled on his mouth; her lips as she went in for the kill, full, delicate… Kissable.

He dumped her rather unceremoniously in her bed and dragged the cover over her before the sliver of belly visible between her panties and her nighty – riding high on her stomach – could do anything to him. She squirmed, stretched like a cat caught napping and rolled over onto her tummy, hands falling lazily over the other side of her pillow, feet sticking out of the bottom of the covers. He reined in a tut and re-covered her feet. Sometimes, he just couldn't put the two people together. This Police Girl and his Little Bird.

* * *

**_A/N:_ **Eurgh, I'm so glad that's over. I hate writing those scenes. I never seem to do it write, but I don't think it turned out as badly as it could have done *pleads unabashedly*...

Anyway, please tell me what you thought of this. I realise this may be a little soon in the eyes of many, but hey, remember, she is drunk through most of this, so she might not remember much ;)

Anyway, as usual, suggestions, critique and comments are all welcome. Reviews are the currency of the FanWriter's soul ;)

Cya tomorrow (next planned chapter),

-Lapin


	9. The Hangover

_**A/N:**_ So, I've moved into my new home and have found some time to update Little Bird. I KNOW IT WAS AN UNREASONABLY LONG WAIT BUT PLEASE DON'T KILL ME BECAUSE I PROMISE IT WILL GET BETTER FROM NOW ON! 0.o

The rate of production probably won't be that fast, but I have a few installment's stocked up, it's just about progressing far enough that they won't look out of place!

So, without further ado,

Please enjoy this latest installment.

* * *

The Hangover.

"Nobody makes love anymore, Seras." Sir Integra answered, tapping a load of papers on her desk to align the edges.

"I suppose not," The vampire conceded, "Not unless it comes in a bottle anyway."

Sir Integra raised her eyebrow and picked up the stapler, trying to ignore that comment. The evening had been rather quiet so far, nothing much to do but paper-work and entertaining her pets. One pet was still locked up in his dungeon, brooding or moping or whatever it was vampires did when going through a mid-century crisis. The other pet had seated herself on the corner of the desk and was playing with a few of the paperweights and decorative lighters. She currently had her hands on the solid brass Womble figurine that would otherwise have served as a book end had it not been in the middle of a grizzly battle with a glass Captain Cooke – both items had been gifts in the past, from the very same vampire nonetheless.

The sheer amount of tat on Sir Integra's desk was testament only to the amount of tat that was concealed inside her desk drawer – fondly named as the 'Tat Drawer'. The group on the edge of the desk was the overflow pile and she had a funny feeling that it was only going to get bigger the more years passed by. And Seras was showing no signs of developing better taste, so the quality of the tat was unlikely to improve any either…

"I disapprove of your drinking habit."

"I disapprove of your smoking."

"Don't attempt to best me on disappointments, Missy."

"Kapow!" Captain Cooke fell to the floor and the Brass Womble began to root through the remaining tat pieces in search of a suitable opponent. "I think I can best you there, Sir."

"Oh really?"

"Uhhuh." A crystal swan tea-light holder stepped up to the plate and began a furious – and noisy – barrage of the hapless Womble. "Oh life, how I miss thee, let me count the ways."

"Don't bother." _Click click_.

"Well for a start, I've never had a boyfriend."

"Didn't I just tell you not to bother? You never listen. And what about Mr Bernadotte?"

"He wasn't really my boyfriend. KABLAM!" The Womble finally released its mega-attack; combined Aren't-I-cute with a power hook from the right hand side. The crystal swan was defeated. "And we only kissed once."

Sir Integra's eyebrows rose and she looked up from her paperwork as a rumble began in the air, a little like growling but accompanied by the rattling of the windows. It would appear that they had an eavesdropper. It would also appear – because she was still rambling on about him – that Seras hadn't noticed anything, but this was all of course untrue because Integra had seen her ears prick up the moment the unsettling noise had started.

"And the dance teacher really didn't count either because even though he was nice and kind of cute, all he ever did was stare at my chest. Which is all well and good but he didn't even get close to kissing me and I personally would have thought that-"

"Seras." She hopped off the desk and Sir Integra's gaze followed her – over the rim of her bifocals – as she scurried around the desk to the 'tat drawer' and yanked it open. "I really don't care about your boyfriends."

Seras 'umm'ed and 'err'ed about her next toy for so long that in the end Sir Integra grabbed one for her and slammed the 'tat drawer' closed again. She shoved the new toy into the vampire's ample bosom and waved her away with an aggravated sigh.

_Zrzrzrzrzrzrzrzrzrzrzrzrzr_!

"Right!" Sir Integra snapped, standing up from her chair and holding out her hand, "Give that to me!"

"But you handed it to me!" Seras complained, clutching the rattle to her chest.

Sir Integra crooked her fingers and shook her head, "Just hand it over, Seras."

It went straight in the bin, along with the Womble. And Captain Cooke. And the Crystal Swan.

"Now get out of my office."

"But-"

"You're annoying me!" Sir Integra snapped, pushing her glasses back up her nose, "Alucard is annoying me! The pair of you are annoying me! I have work to be doing and you can entertain yourself; at someone else's expense!"

Taking the hint, Seras nodded, turned on her heel and left, curiously silent. Sir Integra sighed. That was better. Some peace and quiet would do them all good once in a while and that meant not being assaulted by irritating noises, smells, sights or vampires for at least an evening. She didn't want to hear about Seras' past boyfriends, current affairs or nearly anythings. She didn't want to have to put up with Alucard's foul mood on account of his fledgling and she didn't want to sit through any more of what could be reasonably dubbed 'tense play'.

* * *

Seras lingered outside Sir Integra's door. She wasn't allowed back in and she wasn't about to go back to the dungeon, that she could guarantee. But she was loath to wander the mansion, dithering aimlessly from place to place. It just wasn't her style, so she stood there, outside the door and waited. Waited for an idea to come to her, a want to appear, or her master to crash her little party. The corridor was currently silent, the fainted clicking emanating from Sir Integra's office as the woman stapled papers together, but the air seemed to be getting thinner as a huge power flux signalled her Master's approach.

He appeared through the opposite wall with a grin already plastered to his face. She wanted to scoff at the ridicule of it all, but didn't because she didn't want to give him the satisfaction of knowing she was affected by him. It was bad enough that she knew he'd been ferreting around in her head – it felt funny, as though nothing in there was really safe anymore, almost as though her memories themselves were jumbled, as though they'd been rifled through and not put back the way they used to be – but the fact that that was hardly necessary… It was plain embarrassing just to think about.

"Good evening, Police-"

"Don't call me that." She said tersely, moving off down the hallway. She was heading in the direction of the library. She would get herself a new book, one she hadn't read before and she would distract herself with it so she wouldn't have to think about…

He watched her shaking her head viciously as they walked towards the library and rightly surmised that the events of a few nights previous were haunting her again. Good. They'd been haunting him too so it hardly seemed fair if she wasn't bothered by it too. Not that he hadn't enjoyed himself - he defied anyone to show him a happier vampire at that time – it was perhaps that he had enjoyed himself a little too much and was now left wondering when such things might happen again. And if they would get any further…

He was following her still, she grumbled internally and slinked through the door to the library, heading straight for a bookshelf. It was the one to the immediate right of her usual shelf and was at eye-level. If she were to peruse long enough without any signs of stopping or choosing anything, maybe he would get bored and go away.

He was bored, that was what the problem was. For so many years he would spend his days asleep and his nights working for Hellsing. But nowadays, with two vampires working for the organisation, there was much less to do on a nightly basis. He had _far_ too much free time and had to resort to the tiniest little things to occupy himself with – one of which was Fledgling-watching. Another seemed to be fawning over her and clasping flesh in hand…

So what if he 'tended' to himself? She might have done it a few nights ago, but it didn't look as though she was up for anything now. She was avoiding him, hoping he would go away, hoping she wouldn't run into him. She was hiding in places – the library, Sir Integra's study – and doing things like distracting herself – with books, toys, flowers, whiskey… In some ways it was amusing and in others it was infuriating. She had her mind in a virtual lock-down, nothing allowed in and – as far as he could tell – nothing allowed out. She hadn't so much as nudged his mind since that evening. Blood packets were now being spirited away before something, _anything_ could be done to them. There was almost no chance of a repeat of that night and that was the infuriating part.

Seras browsed the bookshelf with well-concealed nervousness. She had already selected the book she was going to read but had refrained from picking it up because that meant she would have to turn around, thus facing the elephant – or in this case 'monster – in the room. It was a book she'd been wondering about reading for a while now, Sir Integra had glanced over it herself, but it had soon been relegated to the reject pile of 'unhelpful documents' and hadn't left the library since. But it was about time that Seras saw was Twilight was all about.

Her master's hand appeared over her shoulder and plucked that very book from its shelf and, unable to control herself, Seras complained immediately, "Hey, I was going to read that."

"When?" Came the deadpanned reply, "Christmas?"

Alucard heard her mutter something like 'arsehole' before she ducked around him and began speeding off in the direction of the door. Having none of that – he wasn't really interested in the book, or the library anyway – he ambushed her in the middle of the room.

Suddenly, Seras found herself being wheeked up by the back of her belt and tossed onto a nearby couch. The book was tossed none-too-gently at the adjacent table and Alucard's knee hit the cushions beside his fledgling's sprawling body. She stared up at him with what could only be described as 'horror', before hurriedly arranging her features into something more befitting of a fierce and powerful creature. He had an expression on his face that she was struggling to place, but whatever it was was likely going to cause her trouble.

"Is it common behaviour among young women of a certain generation to avoid gentlemen with whom they've shared nightly happenings?" He asked, gloved fingers closing over the back of the couch, body leaning over her slightly, just enough to block out the lights and cast his shadow over her face.

"Is it common behaviour among gentlemen to force-feed a young and impressionable fledgling to the point at which she can no longer fight him off and is helpless to all advances?" She countered, somewhat amazed that she managed all that in just one breath.

He chuckled, "You fed yourself, Police Girl."

"You practically begged me to!"

"And if there was any fighting being done then, it was on my part not yours."

Her eyebrows dipped down in confusion. She didn't remember him fighting her, he seemed to be giving her orders for the most part – as per usual – and had been manhandling her into the positions that would suit him best…

"What fighting?" She asked, frowning. "I don't remember you fighting me."

The grin, which had as yet not left his lips since his arrival in the hallway, slipped a little and she got the feeling that he was seriously considering telling her something… Something that might challenge their relationship, maybe? It would certainly explain the idea of her mind being invaded... Just like her body?

"Oh, good Lord," She whispered, a deep and horribly empty feeling settling in her belly. "We didn't… Actually… We didn't… _Do_ anything, right?"

His eyes widened merely a fraction, before he began to cackle horribly, the laugh growing quickly into a fully-blown, head-back belly laugh. Apparently he didn't share the same concerns that she did.

"No, Little Bird," He said when at last he had managed to contain himself, "We never progressed to that point." He turned on his knee to sit properly on the couch, penning her in, and his free gloved hand moved to touch her cheek, sliding over it gently to dip into her hair tenderly. "Although you were gunning for it."

"Oh, go away!" She snapped, slapping his hand away. So much for gentle and sweet and kind. He was as big a letch as they came! She didn't even _want_ to know what happened after her memory ended… She could recall kissing him and nibbling on his lips and… and…

He raised an amused brow as she flipped over and buried her face in the cushions, squeaking and muttering and apparently berating herself over her shameless behaviour. Honestly, she was quite endearing sometimes. Still, these things needed to be talked about. By teenagers and women. He stood up from the couch and cleared his throat.

"Attempting to avoid me will not work forever, Police Girl. These events have long been set in motion and now that we're sworn to each other," He paused to allow her the chance to unbury her head and actually look at him, even though the angle was odd, "The path they will take is inevitable." He tipped his hat as his feet began to disappear through the floor. "Good evening."

* * *

Only a few minutes had passed since her master's departure, but already Seras had managed to distract herself. Thank goodness 'Twilight' turned out to be so utterly ridiculous because she was in dire need of something else to think about. 'The path they will take is inevitable'… Wonderful… Thanks to her master she was strangely horny and now – thanks to the twinkling vampires and the 'personal brand of heroin' – she was hungry too. And the blood bags were in the dungeon. No doubt being guarded by a very large, very smug vampire.

She knew how things were likely to go.

* * *

_**A/N:**_Bad Author, naughty Author, how dare you play with Seras' feelings like that!? ;) Ah well, I'm sure that with a little 'help' from her master, she can get over it heehee!

It was greatly suggested that there should be a follow up of Seras' little... drunken display... and I was only too pleased to oblige! There was originally to be a lime in this chapter but once again it got turned down! My muse just couldn't work out how to work it into the construct, but I went ahead and included some Alucard-time and a number of suggestions that perhaps Seras feels more for her master than she really lets on :P

Please, you know the drill by now, drop me a review with suggestions, critique et cetera, et cetera...

-Lapin


	10. The Bed

**_A/N_:** Things really are moving along aren't they! The bed's been ordered, it's arrived, they're in it... Blimey, I hardly dare to wonder what might happen next!

Anyway, this might well be the start of something big for them, certainly the next two chapters will have them on a deeper level of relationship, taking possession of each other, and the lemon should follow shortly after those. AND because it's my birthday and I love you lot so much, I've decided to post them all at once :)

Please enjoy this latest installment!

* * *

The Bed.

The bed stared at her from the middle of the room, beckoning her forwards. It was a humungous four poster thing with a dark, polished obsidian frame and scarlet sheets. They looked almost like silk, but surely weren't because while her master might have been regal, he wasn't a fop. Silk sheets were definitely a no no. Then what were they? Satin? Could she reach out and find out? The ebony head of curly hair that lay upon the plump, downy pillow told her she couldn't. Technically she shouldn't even have been in his rooms at this hour, but she just couldn't help herself… She'd seen the bed arriving a few days ago and had been unable to sleep in her own bed comfortably, tossing and turning with the knowledge that something better was out there. And worse still, that it was in the mansion with her… In the dungeon with her.

She stood in the doorway, unbreathing and utterly still, allowing only her eyes the pleasure of mobility. He was sprawled out on his front, the sheets barely reaching his waist and revealing his back to her inspection. It was broad, lightly tanned, even in the darkness and his undead state, and was littered with scars of all shapes and sizes. There were rounds ones like gunshot wounds, stab wounds, arrow wounds, but the most prominent were laid out like whip-lines, lashes running the length of his back. They made her realise just how little she really knew about her master. She wasn't even aware he could get scars… She certainly didn't know where he got them from. Did she even want to know?

The rest of him was pretty much as she had expected, well-muscled but sinewy and tough looking. His true form.

"Come closer." His voice was deep, quiet still, but it startled her none the less having not expected it at all. She'd thought he was sleeping. Apparently she was wrong.

When she didn't move, he turned his head to the other side, so he could see her. She didn't know why, but he was strangely attractive like that, lips pressed into the pillow, hair falling haphazardly across his eyes… Eyes that were peeking out at her across the room with that smoky, intense gaze… They were barely open. Had she woken him?

She pushed the question into his mind and saw the corner of his lips quirk against the pillow. '_Yes._'

'_Sorry, Master._'

'_Come here, Little Bird. _' His arm shifted from under his pillow and nudged some of the bedding aside, to make room for her.

'_Why have you got a bed in here? I thought you preferred the coffin._' She asked tersely, trying as she might to keep the conversation on a manageable track. It wasn't that she was afraid to join him on the bed, it was that she didn't want to form an attachment to the space, or make any more obvious just how much better than her bed his bed was.

His lips quirked yet again and his eyes slid shut. '_Come closer and find out._'

'_Just answer the question._'

Red appeared between the layers of sooty lashes. '_Change that tone, Police Girl._'

She rolled her eyes. This again? Really, she'd thought she'd gotten over this stage when her Dad had died, she didn't need it from him.

"When you can learn to stop skirting around the question," She said, turning and heading for the door, "Then I'll join you, but before then, nothing."

"I never asked you to join me, only to come closer."

She made a half-turn in anger, only to stop herself when she found him propped up on one elbow, presenting her with a very chiselled chest and a deepening need to leap over there and- and-

"Bite. Me." She snarled before whirling back around and practically running for the door. He cracked a grin at her retreating back; there really was no need to be so rude, or to run for that matter, he wasn't about to go chasing her down dressed as he was – which in all fairness, wasn't at all – and they both knew that he would bite her again sooner or later. The only question that now remained was when? And when would he be honest enough about the bed to actually get her into it? And when he did, what did he plan on doing with her in it?

He sank back down onto the bed and tucked his arms under the pillows as he contemplated all the things he would do to her when the time came… They were pleasant contemplations, very pleasant indeed.

Seras looked mournfully at her single bed with its now-very-lumpy pillow and the light blue sheets which had greyed with age. His bed looked so much better and hers looked oh so unappealing! Grumbling about the unfairness of it all, Seras stomped over to her bed and threw herself down on it, roughly making it up to fall over her in what would ordinarily satisfied her, but was tonight just another example of why his bed was better. For a start, she had to curl herself into a ball just to fit under the duvet here, but there she would be able to stretch out, in any direction, and still be on the bed and under the covers. Then of course there was the pillow fiasco. Hers was lumpy and flat. His looked fluffy, and supportive, and soft…

Cursing, she screwed her eyes shut and tried not to imagine how happy she could be, cuddled up in all that red satin, stretching her limbs out across the glorious expanse…

'_If you want it, come and get in._' Came the invitation, seriously tempting, but dripping in darkness. Lord alone knew what would happen to her if she actually conceded to spending the day with him… He'd offered before, but she had declined then as well… There was too much left hanging and she just didn't know if she could resist him, looking the way he did…

The sun was high in the sky before the door to his chambers creaked open again and a familiar presence allowed themselves entry. Bare feet padded softly across his floor and stopped at the bedside, where a metallic _clunk!_ signalled Harkonnen's presence as well – no funny business. He resisted a grin as she began probing the pillows, testing their comfort factor, before clambering gingerly onto the bed – it was rather tall and came to her waist. The mattress dipped only slightly as she settled herself in and he found the covers being dragged further up his back. She apparently wasn't taking any chances today.

Even still, he turned his head to look at her, meeting her eyes in the darkness. They were wide and almost doe-like, staring at him with an I-didn't-think-you-were-awake expression.

The toothy grin he gave her had her clutching the covers tighter to herself, as though she was afraid of what he might do! Heaven's above, was her opinion of him so low? He chuckled mirthlessly, "Sweet dreams, little bird."


	11. The Dreamcatcher

_**A/N**_: Part 2 of my bday gift to you all! :D

* * *

The Dream Catcher.

The evil count stood at the top of his castle, the moonlight barely illuminating him as he stared dispassionately down at the world. The dirt and filth of the days he had lived through had not washed away with the passing time, but had instead been swept into the corner, along with all the grime of the ages passed. The world had not changed and he viewed it with contempt. Around him the living swarmed like ants, scurrying all over in unchanging patterns, scavenging for scraps of hope in an otherwise hopeless existence. Their faces were always the same.

A winged ant crossed his path now and he considered crushing it mercilessly, simply because it was different. Curiosity bade him pause, however, and as he watched, the ant began to fly, changing with each beat of its wings into a moth, and then slowly a butterfly. He watched it closely as it fluttered around him, wondering if it was his influence which made it change. It circled him endlessly and as it flew, the wings beating gracefully open and shut, balancing it in the air… He found himself thinking it rather pretty… Beautiful even.

How an ant parade had managed to produce such a fantastic creature, he would never fully remember. It was a knowledge bourn from memory, a memory he had lost centuries ago and he realised it may have disappeared at around the same time he learnt to recognise the ant parade for what it was.

He caught the butterfly gently in his hands, taking great care not to injure or bend the wings, lest he damage her. She sat quite happily in his hands, her pretty little wings drifting open and shut, and he held her for a long time, eager to pet her, but anxious to break her. Eventually, bored with the perch, the lack of comfort or the lack of adventure, the butterfly escaped his hands and flew away. It caught immediately in a spider web and the graceful – but weak – wings beat futilely against the web, seeming to beg him for help.

He realised his mistake immediately; collecting the thing because it was pretty. He offered the stuck creature nothing save a black laugh. It was beautiful because it was weak and needed his help. He would make sure never to pick up something simply because it was pretty. Next time he would pick up an ant.

* * *

The grinding was so loud that he was sure the whole street could probably hear it (and all of the inhabitants were dead). It was bouncing off the brick walls and ricocheting off the floor, worming its way down his ears and setting all the hairs on the back of his neck to standing on end. It was that built in warning signal that came to any male when presented with an angry and volatile situation. Mainly those involving a female.

The source of the grinding noise was Seras' jaw. She had been stand-offish and sour all week. He'd been driven into avoiding her for the most part – _him_! The Great Vampire Alucard! Driven to avoiding a small, blonde female – and was only within reach of her now because they were tailing a coven of vampires and their orders had been to keep one another in sight. At all times. He was clearly irritating her although he had absolutely no idea what it was he was supposed to have done and he felt rather irritable about the situation himself.

The standard Hellsing infantry could also tell that something was up with their resident pet vampires and had unanimously designated to stay behind and 'guard the van'. It was just common sense to leave two cranky and potentially dangerous vampires alone when at all possible.

Together, the vampire and his fledgling advanced further into the scene. It was a quiet sub-urban London street, with wheelie bins all laid out neatly for collection, and blood all over the tarmac. Normally the Hellsing special ops would be called in by the police because they didn't know what to make of the murder scene, or there would be a string of mysterious disappearances which appeared to make no sense. This time the police couldn't even get near the murder scene and the whole street seemed to have disappeared. They were dealing more and more frequently with covens these days, but this one was so close to the normal lives of the living… It was too dangerous even for the police to handle.

The vampire coven had probably started as just one vampire, turning his neighbours and then his friends, and then the whole street… But however it started, the ghouls and vampires were now taking passers-by and the bodies were never seen again. Lost reports were flooding into the police stations all over London and the majority of the cases culminated in this road being the last point that the missing persons were seen.

Seras stepped brazenly into the road and marched up to the first house. It was night time of course and unsurprisingly none of the houses had their lights on. Things moved in the shadows behind the net curtains, but Seras simply kicked the door in and let off like a rocket, cannon fire blasting holes through walls, taking out most of the living room with one exploding artillery round and moving onto the kitchen.

Alucard stood in the open doorway, watching and wondering if there was any real need for him to be there at all. To anyone of the people watching from the end of the road, it would look like he was just training his fledgling still, allowing her her fill of the kills before he went to work and tore the place apart, predictably. He looked surly and taciturn and not very different from how he usually looked. He was only thankful his dread and slight incredulity didn't show in his face.

She was _powering_ through the bodies now! The air was thick with their dust and it swirled around them both as she ran around in it, black tendrils ripping heads from bodies and squirting congealed black blood in amongst the mire of other foul substances. The Jackal was hanging limply from his hand and he hadn't even bothered going to get the other one from its halter. There really didn't seem to be a point what with the way things were going.

The street was cleared in just over an hour and by the time it was all over, Alucard had gotten a grand total of three shots off, while Seras had emptied her supply of artillery and had resorted to using her hands to dispatch her foes. It all left the master vampire feeling rather inadequate and he actually cowered away from his fledgling on reflex when she approached.

"Who the hell was the butterfly?!" She rounded on him, flicking gore from her fingers as she approached.

He had the good fortitude not to reply. After all, he didn't know what she was talking about. Butterfly? What butterfly?

"The thing with the ants and the castle and the spider's web and the butterfly you liked?!" She fisted a hand in his cravat and pulled him down so they were eye to eye. "Who was the butterfly?"

"You're dreaming." He said levelly as it was the only explanation.

A nerve began ticking in her eye and she clenched her other fist in apparent frustration at his apparent stupidity. He could tell already that he was in hot water with her – for some strange and unknown reason – and whatever he was doing now was apparently making it worse for himself. What was that old saying? 'Hell hath no fury like a woman's wrath'.

"No," She ground out, "_You're_ dreaming. You had a dream about a bunch of ants and a butterfly. You thought she was beautiful." Ohhhhh… So _that _was why she was angry. But how was _he_ supposed to know that? "Who was she?"

"Why are you looking into my dreams?"

"_Answer the damned question!_"

"My fledgling."

Her heart broke in her eyes at the quickly spoken words. But something else broke as well; her trust for him, and he had a feeling that if he wasn't careful, something of his was about to break as well.

"You had… A fledgling." It wasn't a question, it was a statement and the cold edge had returned to her voice.

"I might have been talking about you."

"But you weren't." Another statement. If his predicament was dangerous before, then it was bloody lethal now. "This is another woman. Another fledgling. There's no way you would dream about me."

Well _that _stung. "It doesn't matter."

"Of course it matters!" She snapped, the murderous glint that he saw in her dungeon when they lay upon the table returning to her eye. "You have another fledgling!"

Outside, guarding the van, the infantrymen shuddered. The shouting was getting louder and now the words were barely discernible. Life at the Hellsing Estate was going to be very rough for a while and they were dreading it. Another fledgling? How could he? It was practically two timing!

"Don't accuse me of things, Police Girl," He countered, a warning in his voice, "I allowed you your fun with the Frenchman, don't forget!"

"We weren't sworn to each other then!" She stabbed a finger at his chest, her hair shaking like a great golden mane as she shook her head, "You were nothing but a master to me then!"

"You were sworn to me from the second you agreed to become my fledgling." He spat back, his irritation immediately spiking from the prod in the chest. "And yet you still insisted on gallivanting around with that pig-headed philanderer! Don't you dare try to tell me you're not guilty of anything, Seras Victoria!"

She looked affronted at his accusations and he tried not to feel guilty about the look she gave him. "I did not 'gallivant'," she took a step closer to him and tugged harder on his cravat. A growl of warning slipped past his lips. "He was my _friend_!"

"Nothing more?" Cold and collected.

"Nothing!"

"Then why did you take him with you?" Designed to hurt.

She was stumped. Speechless. Was he jealous? Why was he asking these questions? What did it matter to him about Pip, or her for that matter? He had another woman waiting for him somewhere and Pip was gone, long dead and long gone.

"I had thought you better than to rub things in." She said, letting go of his cravat and allowing him to stand up straight, smoothing the material down at his front and putting his apparel back to rights. Her tone now was curiously calm, quiet, as though he wasn't worth the effort of a raised voice. But her eyes still held the rage that had previously accompanied her words. This wasn't over yet.

He attempted a laugh but it sounded too fake for his ears and the way in which her left eyebrow rose said she thought much the same as him. Fake. Silence reigned over the street now and not a word was spoken for several minutes, not even a breath was taken as the two monsters stared each other down. Eventually Seras spoke, stepping around her master and heading for the door that would lead her to the street:

"You can keep your other fledgling, but I'll have nothing more to do with you."

* * *

Sir Integra's eyebrow was quivering. _What_ was she going to do with the pair of them? They were dusty, blood splattered and glowering – both of them. For the last week it had only been Seras who had been in an awful grump, Alucard had been reasonable for a change, but it would appear that the fledgling's bad mood had now affected her master and the Hellsing Organisation was going to have to deal with things without its pet vampires for a little while, or at least until they had sorted their differences.

She leant back in her chair and surveyed them both. "I suppose, by the sorry states I find you in, that you have something to report."

"She's a bitch." Alucard spat, sending a glare in the direction of the small female, who simply stuck her nose in the air and said calmly:

"He started it."

"The mission." Sir Integra reminded them. Patience was obviously going to be the key here. "I don't care about your little couple spats."

"We're not a couple." Seras replied, still calm. Alucard on the other hand had adopted a less-than-healthy looking aura of red and black tendrils. They were beginning to drip onto the floor and Sir Integra mused that if he clenched his jaw any more his teeth would shatter. Then then _that_ would be all over her floor as well…

"Oh? I thought you were getting along just fine."

"We were until he revealed he was two-timing me."

"We weren't dating, Police Girl."

"Two timing you? With who?"

"I wasn't-"

"Another fledgling."

"We weren't dating…" Alucard muttered before a heavy silence fell over the room.

She had hoped that she would not have to explain this so soon. In fact, she had hoped she would never have to explain this at all, but it would seem that luck or fortune were not on Sir Integra's side and she would either have to explain everything to Seras herself, or order Alucard to do it. While the latter was the easiest option, she didn't think her bank account would pay for the collateral that would undoubtedly go with it, so she opted for the safer option and sat up in her chair.

"Seras, pull up a chair. Alucard, contain yourself and I don't want to hear you saying anything until I am done talking." She aimed a 'look' at him over the top of her glasses and saw him pull an aggravated expression. "Is that clear?"

A nod from the master and the scrape of a chair being pulled across marble by the fledgling. When everyone was seated/stood where they should be, Sir Integra could begin setting things straight.

"As you know, Seras, Alucard is over 700 years old and had no fledglings for the majority of that time." Seras cast her master another 'look'. "That is, until 1897 when Alucard met his first fledgling in Budapest. Her name was Mina Murray – later Mina Harker - and she was a mistress of seduction."

"So a whore, basically."

"Not. Quite." Sir Integra grit her teeth, unused to being interrupted in the middle of such important waves of speech, and especially not with such a vulgar – and not to mention, incorrect – comment. "She was manipulative, not a whore, otherwise Alucard would not have been able to turn her into his fledgling. She had to be a virgin for that. Alucard was in Budapest pursuing her fiancé, his prey. After finding out about his nature he was going to kill her, but she persuaded him to spare her soul and make her a vampire instead. I gather-" She shot Alucard a glance and he blushed, looking sheepish, "-That it didn't take much convincing."

Seras snorted in disgust and gave her master a derisive look. It clearly said that this was the sort of behaviour she was talking about when she said he was two-timing her. Sir Integra carried on, regardless.

"There was a short battle in which Alucard was captured by the Hellsing family. What happened to Mina Harker after that was very difficult to trace, but in around 1941 she disappeared entirely and no clues about her could be found. Until 1999 and the Battle for London." At this, even Alucard looked surprised and the black forest of swirling tendrils slid back into his body. He looked now as though he were listening intently and Sir Integra realised that he didn't actually _know_ what had happened at the Battle of London because by the time they had found Mina Harker's remains he was already three years gone.

"Mina Harker was the source subject for the chipped Vampires." Sir Integra told him. "We don't know – _still_ don't know – how they did it, but somehow they used her to help them turn humans into vampires with the use of the chips. She was quite dead by the time of the Battle of London, but was the only genuine specimen found in the possession of Millennium and it was Alucard's DNA they took from her to build their new vampires.

"Seras," She returned her gaze to the younger vampire, "Alucard and Mina had not seen each other in over a hundred years. They had no contact either so your claims that he was two-timing you were unfounded."

"But they were sworn to each other, from the second she became his fledgling." Seras said stubbornly. To say that her claims were unfounded was simply unfair, she would not have made the claims at all if they were unfounded!

"She told me before I was killed that she was marrying Jonathan Harker." Alucard said, as though Seras really ought to know that and by pretending she didn't she was only being stupid. "The bond would be broken upon my death or upon her marriage. Would it also interest you to know that she had a son with that human?"

"Vampires can have children?" The question was voiced by both females in the room, both displaying expressions of equal horror and slight disbelief. "But they're dead!"

"We're not dead!" He snapped, "We're the living dead! And yes we can have children if one half of the coupling is living flesh!"

"So two vampires can't have children but a vampire and a human can."

With a growl, Alucard chucked his hands in the air in a show of frustration. He was fast losing patience with what he considered to be a pointless conversation. Whether or not Vampires could have children depending on who was dead and who wasn't had nothing to do with his past mistake and nothing to do with what was fast proving itself to be the present one. He stalked off, slamming the door hard.

The two women sat quietly for a little while, both digesting what had just transpired until Sir Integra cleared her throat and flicked a wrist towards the centre of the room, indicating Seras should go and stand there. Once the vampire was in position, Sir Integra steepled her fingers on the table in front of her and said levelly, "Report."

"Target's destroyed, Sir." The usual chirp wasn't quite genuine, but the effort was made and it was there.

"Any casualties?"

"Only the whole street, Sir. None from our side. All artillery fired, three of Alucard's blessed bullets fired and none of the standard rounds, Sir."

"What, none of them?" Sir Integra didn't sound as though she quite believed that. "And only three of Alucard's?"

"The general infantry stayed back to guard the van, Sir. Alucard wasn't doing anything tonight. I did the work."

"So _that_'s why you're so filthy." Sir Integra mused. "Well, you are dismissed. Go and make it up to your master, Seras. He's not the sort to two-time anyone. He has a higher code of morals than that, believe me."

* * *

He was waiting in his dungeon for her to come and find him. He knew she would. She was predictable when she was angry about something and there were only so many things she would do. One of them was to hide in her chamber and avoid him at all costs, the other was the complete opposite, she would come and find him and they would fight about it.

He was waiting now on his throne, wine glass in hand, gently swilling the contents in mock patience. In reality he was rattling around inside his own skull like a frog in a bucket, wondering this that and the other about what she thought of him now, what she thought of Mina, what she thought about his history with her and – most of all – what she thought about her future with him, if any of that now remained at all. He was torn between his stock reaction of 'I just don't care anymore' and the niggling feeling of 'I'm old enough to know better than to throw away a good thing'.

Seras and Mina were very very different and if he were to compare them to each other he would be doing them both an injustice… A disservice even. Where Mina was beautiful, Seras was merely pretty, but where Seras was strong, Mina was incredibly weak. Her beauty and flirtatious nature were her main assets, while Seras' strength and intuition made her into quite the little bird…

He liked neither one of them more than the other and viewed them both as his fledglings. Mina had never passed out of that stage, so brief was their involvement that he never had the chance to train her well enough. Seras, however…

The door of his chambers bounced off the wall as his little bird made her entrance. He did not lift his eyes from his drink. She advanced across the room and had slammed both hands down on the arms of his throne before he'd even considered just how dangerous she might be about to be. He had just been singing her praises after all for being so strong… The force with which she smacked his chair rattled it on the floor, and he did well not to flinch.

They stayed still for a long time, neither apparently knowing quite what to do now. It was obvious that Seras came in here to say something, but whatever it was, she apparently now felt disinclined to mention.

"Did you want something?" Alucard finally prompted, aware of the possibilities of the question only increasing her wrath, but unable to sit in silence for much longer when she was barely a foot from the end of his nose.

He heard her swallow and rightly guessed that she was working up to something the answer to which she wasn't going to enjoy.

"Did you love her?"

"I do not love."

"Ever?"

"Not now. I'm dead and the dead feel no happiness, or love."

"I don't believe you."

He gave the blood in the glass one last dignified swill, before taking a dainty sip. Type O negative. "You don't have a choice in what you believe or not, Police Girl."

She bristled. "Did you _ever_ love?"

"When I was alive."

Silence again and then, quietly, "Did you ever marry?"

"…"

"Or have children?"

He cracked a small smile and brought his eyes up to her now. And was surprised to find there was blood on her lips. That was odd, why hadn't he smelt it? She was close enough to the end of his nose that he could smell the Ariel washing powder used to wash her uniforms, he ought to have been able to smell it…

She did not flinch, or move a single muscle as his tongue extended from his mouth, long and slimy and streaked with the blood of his last mouthful. It touched her lips and smoothed away the droplets of blood that resided there. Although she was repulsed by the action, she was curious as to its purpose and allowed him to take the liberty of cleaning her lips.

O negative, he thought with a smile, that was why he couldn't smell it, it came from the exact same person as the blood in his glass. She had been back to her room for a snack, to bolster her energy. Ready to fight him.

"I thought you'd read Bram Stoker's 'Dracula'," He said, taking another sip from his glass, peering at her over the rim, "Shouldn't you know all this?"

"I only like the first bit." She said grimly, her dull eyes flickering between both of his. "I never read the rest."

He laughed, for once not at all bitter, and put the glass down on the table. But to do this he had to lean forward, lean past her, into her until his nose was brushing her throat. He could almost feel the blood that drifted sluggishly through the veins there and licked his lips, wondering if she would let him…

The sharp prick of his fangs in her neck was something of a comfort to her, no matter how much she wanted to beat him off, the bond they still shared as master and fledgling made it so that when his fangs pierced her skin, she was slave to his wishes. And right now his wishes were that she stand very still and allow him to finish his dinner. Without questions.

The drawing feeling of her blood being sucked out through her neck was beginning to make the muscles ache. As if it wasn't bad enough that they'd just been stuck with two razor sharp needles, now they were having a lot of liquid drawn through them at a hell of a pace. She started shaking with the effort of keeping so still and when Alucard saw fit to release her neck, she nearly fell on him, not realising how much he was supporting her weight. She balanced herself though and managed not to touch him.

His eyes, she noticed, which were usually a fiery red burning like a thousand suns in the sky – she had often mused as she lay alone in the dungeons waiting for his late return – were now glowing above a small, soft smile. It was the same look he had given her as Count Vladimir Tepes in the Battle of London, all those years ago.

The smouldering eyes passed over her face and he said gently, far too gently for her to be angry with:

"Not yet."

* * *

_**A/N: **_Sorry, sorry! It was horrible, I know... But I just didn't know what to do with it! I wanted to inject a bit of humour into the mixture and this is what we got... But I've tried to fix it and frankly this is the best I could do... The characterisations were terrible in the middle and although I could probably get away with it by saying that Alucard's past being revealed left him a little flustered... I wouldn't be able to convince myself, so the only answer I have now is to take my own life in atonement for my sin .

Please drop a review because after all, they are the currency of the soul ;)

Happy hunting,

-Lapin


	12. The Regression

_**A/N:** _This ol' cookie again... I've already posted it once - mistakenly, out of order - but we are now 'in order' and this is where it shall stay. Part three of my gift to you lot.

* * *

The Regression.

It was late morning at the Hellsing Residence and Seras ought to be asleep by now, but thoughts were keeping her awake. She was sat at her table, on her little throne in her night top and shorts, a thin silk robe draped over her to keep the chill from her dead flesh. She had one knee pulled up to her chest, a lit cigarette dangling from the fingers of her right hand and a half-filled glass of amber liquid in the other, sat on the table beside a crystal ash-tray, an ice-cube tinkling gently against its edge.

She swilled the liquid gently. It was whiskey, of the most expensive and enjoyable type; Lagavulin. Finest. Smoked. Strictly speaking she ought not to drink it because it just went straight to her blood stream, made her all giddy and… To put it bluntly, she was a light-weight. Or at least she was when she was alive. Now she was dead, however, her tolerance had apparently risen and she would have to go through most of the bottle before any effects whatsoever began to show. In fact, the empty bottle was on the floor at her feet, on its side, resting against the table leg. The bit in the glass was the last of it and it was bloody hard to come by these days, especially if the only time you were allowed out was after dark when all the shops had shut. Oh, woe was she.

She took a small drag from her cigarette and then allowed her arm to dangle again. The cigarette wasn't so hard to come by. Although she had promised her master she would give it up because she was faithful to him and not to Pip – who had been the original reason for her taking up the habit in the first place – it was now undeniably a habit and not one she could break easily. There were always going to be a few packets lying around in her room and she was entitled to smoke them in daylight hours if she should so wish. Besides… It wasn't as if she was smoking this one for Pip, so her promise wasn't broken.

This one was for her. As was the last one. And the one before that. As was every single cigarette butt that sat around the overloaded ashtray. She'd been thinking about herself all day; her life in the police force; her death in the Hellsing Mansion; her attraction to a few of her co-workers; her inability to lay _anyone_; how it saved her life; how her death was now boring as hell; and how bloody ironic all of this was. She was constantly reminded – by the packets of fags left lying about, no less – of the prison sentence she had given herself. It wasn't so much the fact that she was now destined to walk the earth until the end of days, it was the fact that nothing would ever change in that time.

She took another drag and chased it down with a gulp from her glass. The ice cube bumped against her lips and then then fell back to the bottom of the glass as she returned it to the table. All of her childhood she had been indoctrinated with the idea that somewhere out there a handsome prince was waiting to come and take her away. Every little girl was a princess in her own way and Prince Charming was never far away. As she had grown up Prince Charming had transformed into Mr Right, and when Mr Right failed to reveal himself he had been replaced by Mr Anybody-There? It seemed as though all small girls were educated to think that love came at some point. Her parents had certainly supported that idea, that someone was out there just for her, that she only had to wait a little while and someone would come running along on a bold white steed, scoop her up and spirit her away into the sunset.

However, a good 53 years – because that is how old she really was at this point – had taught her that all of that was a lie. Love, true love, existed between friends because they supported each other with many many things and it didn't really matter what you looked like or what your particular tastes were, you were friends because you just were. That suspiciously common attraction between people that was generally thought of as 'love' was in fact nothing more than sexual attraction. Lust. If it wasn't then the two people were mere friends. 'Love' in the idyllic sense didn't really exist.

But – she tapped the end of her cigarette in an attempt to distract herself and allowed the ash to fall to the stone floor – that didn't stop her from wanting it. And it didn't mean – her fingers tightened imperceptibly on the glass – that she wouldn't keep hoping. The bond she felt with Alucard, the one that had compelled her to agree with him when he promised that they be together forever, _even though_ he was promised to another, was nothing more than a Fledgling's bond to her Master. That was the reality of it.

A quiet grinding began to emanate from the glass before her fingers burst through it with a loud _bang!_ and shards of glass showered her front and scattered across the table top. The remaining whiskey had also escaped at velocity and was splattered across the table, thin rivulets of it dribbling off the table's edge and onto the floor, hitting the empty whiskey bottle with a steady _tok tok tok_. The ice cube had fallen in her lap. She picked it up with bloody, glass-encrusted fingers and chucked it onto the table to join the rest of the mess there.

Her anger wasn't really directable anymore. At a time she had been able to direct it towards her foes, tearing apart the Nazi dogs who took Pip away from her – he was perhaps the closest she had ever come to finding Mr Right and even then he wasn't that close – or blowing the shit out of the Major for taking away her Master – a pain she still felt keenly. But these days there was no one to beat up, no brains to blow out. Going and finding her master would mean very little because none of this was really his fault, it had been working its way along for as long as she could remember. Ever since she was a little child, she'd been unlovable. The feelings she harboured were always breaking out of their bonds and – she stuck a finger in her mouth, cleaning any glass from the wound as she sucked – there was next to nothing that she could do about it.

Her only cure was to either find the elusive 'love' that was so clearly depicted in fairy tales and other make-believe, or to give up on it completely. But whatever the case she couldn't remain at this half-way house, where the only person to love her was herself.

As if spurred on by the thought, the glass-pricked fingers that she took from her mouth now disappeared below the lip of her sleep shorts, finding and making herself weak. The tiny circles she made on herself seemed oh so reminiscent of the circles she'd been running in for the last 53 years, only these felt so much better to the touch…

She took the cigarette to her lips and took a long pull. Her whiskey might be wasted on the thoughts of her master and her wasted life, but the cigarette wasn't. She examined it through the plume of smoke she blew forth. The end was glowing faintly from the new influx of oxygen, reminding her of Alucard's eyes. With an expression of disgust she turned it around in her fingers and put it out on her own neck. It didn't burn her as much as she'd hoped although the smell of cooking meat was a little better; acrid and vile, it filled her nose and she slipped a little lower in her throne, slinging her leg over the arm and letting her head rest against the back.

Yes… She only needed herself…

* * *

_**A/N:**_So there you have it, the last gift of the day :) And a recurrence of DarkSeras. It was about time too if you ask me, I feel like she's been getting a bit soft over the last few installments...

Anyway, please tell me if you disliked the end events and I'll make sure I include warnings in the next one so the more sensitive among you can avert your eyes :P

You know the drill by now; leave a review to tell me what you thought; make any suggestions; give me any critique; yadda; yadda; yadda.

Other than that, I'll see you next time!

-Lapin


	13. The Table-top Tristesse

_**A/N:**_ Ok Kids, you ready for this? It's that long awaited lemon you've all been begging me for, I only hope it meets the expectations of the many :S

Oh gawd, I'm suddenly not so sure about posting this :( Forgive me if it's terrible :(

Please forgive this latest installment.

P.S. May I recommend the song Recessional by Vienna Teng as an appropriate soundtrack to this chapter? Thanks.

* * *

The Table-top Tristesse.

"You directly disobeyed my orders!" Sir Integra roared, swiping her hand across in front of her and sending the cup of tea that was placed on her desk flying. The hot liquid splashed onto the table top and the cup and saucer crashed to the floor, smashing. "_That_ is what you have done!"

A number of weeks ago, a change was perceptible in Seras. It began with the revelation of Mina and had become more obvious as time went on. Less was seen of the young Vampyrress, apparently preferring the solitude of the basement to the humanity of the upstairs. The infantry had refused to train with her recently due to some mishaps in the arena, guns cleft in twain, areas previously put to the left were now all of a sudden on the right. The female vampire was the obvious candidate for these atrocities and had gone from being labelled as powerful but creepy, to dangerous.

Alucard had been strangely absent as well, but unlike his fledgling he wasn't causing any problems. Sir Integra had no doubt that he was the reason behind her foul mood and sudden change of attitude, but when summoned to her office and asked to spill his guts, all he could tell her was that Seras was having trouble coming to terms with the loss of the Frenchman and the existence of Mina. He was deemed utterly useless and dismissed.

Further mishaps had followed, constantly being brushed off as accidents, but this latest transgression could not be overlooked.

This evening Sir Integra had summoned Seras to her with the instruction to bring a cup of tea. It was the first shred of interaction that was sought out between the two women since the fiasco with Mina and was always going to be tense. But the spilt cup of tea was not part of the intended plan. The plan was to reprimand Seras for her reckless behaviour and to order her to sharpen up her act and quit moping in the cellar. However, dealing with the vampire's sullen attitude had proven too much for her.

* * *

"_Do you know why you're here?" Sir Integra asked stiffly as Seras clattered the cup of tea onto the desk. She was unusually careless with the beverage._

_Seras shrugged noncommittally and jammed her hands in her pockets. Sir Integra felt her eyebrow twitch at the blatant test of her authority. See, this was exactly the problem she was talking about._

"_You're here because or your recent behaviour." Sometimes it felt like dealing with little children. Stupid little children. She let a patronizing note slip into her voice as she snarled, "Can you tell me what you've done?"_

"_No." Seras said brazenly, "I don't even know why I'm in here."_

* * *

"I was only going to tell you off about your appalling behaviour in the training arena!" Sir Integra grit, aged voice strained and cracking a little with the effort, but none the less frightening. Seras actually took a step back; she may have been all front and bravado at the minute, but the two women were friends and did not often shout at each other. "But your disgusting-" She spat the word "behaviour continues in here! How dare you treat my cup of tea as a chore?! I requested you brought me some tea but the right to refuse was yours, so don't give me this _shit_! Pick up that cup!"

Seras bent obediently to retrieve the broken cup and placed it on the desk. Sir Integra's eyes flashed behind her glasses.

"Is it so much to ask for you to do as I say? Well?"

"No, Sir."

"Then why did you disobey me in Harwich?"

Seras was silent again and Sir Integra's hands began to shake with barely supressed rage. "A young boy died because of you."

"It's endless."

"I beg your pardon?"

"This battle you're fighting is endless, worthless. It will never get better than this, Sir."

"It is not in your place, vampire, to tell me what is worthless." Sir Integra snapped, digging hurriedly in her coat pocket for a lighter and her cigar case, pulling them out amid muffled cursing. Seras stood silent in wait.

After a number of quiet minutes had passed, Sir Integra emerged from behind her desk, much calmer now with a lit cigar in her hand and the new influx of nicotine coating her blood. She approached Seras and used two fingers to push aside the collar of her uniform shirt, exposing the silver collar and plaque that rested on her collarbones.

"You are a vampire of the Hellsing Organisation." Sir Integra spoke, thick cigar smoke billowing from her mouth and filling Seras' nostrils. A beloved, but resentful smell. "And that means you are bound to my will. If I order you to move to a location, you move to a location; if I order you to destroy a battalion, you destroy a battalion; if I order you to bring me a cup of tea and put it nicely on the table, you put it nicely on the table. Do you understand?"

She nodded.

"This collar marks you as my dog, my little pet monster and if you will not do as I command, I will have you destroyed, like any other dogs who ignore their masters' orders. Is that clear?"

A dark emotion flickered in the depths of Seras head, but she nodded regardless. "I'm sorry, Sir."

Sir Integra shook her head gravely, "I'm afraid, Seras, that you're not. Not yet." She tapped the silver plaque, "All of your powers will be sealed until you have fully learnt your lesson."

"But, Sir!" Seras blurted; _all_ of her powers! But that meant… What about mind reading?! She wouldn't be able to talk to her master – not that she wanted to, but in the future it might change. She'd have to rely on him being constantly in her thoughts! Which might actually be the case because she would be unable to shut him out if she couldn't use her powers…

"No, Seras!" Sir Integra snapped, voice raised, "You must learn! You are not a free creature! You have a master – me! _I_ can control your freedom! You have no idea how much freedom I have allowed you in the past, but it was too much!"

"But-!"

"That's enough, Seras." She was cut off and Sir Integra put her cigar to her lips, watching Seras through the smoke, as though contemplating the rest of her punishment. "For disobeying my orders, your powers will be sealed. For your dangerous conduct in the training arena you are henceforth placed under house arrest until further notice. And for the death of that child…" Another drag and another few agonising seconds. "You're confined to the basement."

The basement? Anger began to bubble up at the apparent unfairness of her punishments; she wasn't going to be allowed to do anything! "For how long?"

"Until I decide you're sorry."

"But I'm sorry now!"

"Don't whine," Sir Integra said levelly, ignoring the fangs that were now bared at her and the fisted hands that were shaking at Seras' sides. "You're dismissed."

"This isn't fair!"

"Yes it is."

"No it's not! I wasn't-"

"I don't care what you think, that is my decision, now get out."

"S-"

"Get. _Out_."

Virtually spitting her fury across the room, Seras stomped her foot, cracking the tile she trod on and letting an animalistic roar bellow from her lungs. She scrunched her eyes shut and roared again, every fibre of her being screaming at her that the woman before her would be an easily removed annoyance. Her sentencing was unfair, utterly unfair and there was – apparently – nothing that could be said to change Sir Integra's mind. Hell, the woman wouldn't even let her get a word in edgeways.

Sir Integra seemed completely calm and unperturbed by the exhibition of strength and frustration in front of her. Even when Seras stopped bellowing her anguish to the ceiling and pointed a bloody fingertip – half-moon circles were bitten into her palms and they dripped blood onto the floor – at her, she hardly moved at all. There was, however, nothing that the young vampire could think to say to describe her feelings for the fury she felt was beyond all mortal words and so all that escaped her throat was a growl, guttural and low, before she turned on her heel and stormed out of the room. Not before beating the crap out of a coat stand though and hurling it across the room to crash into one of Sir Integra's glass cabinets, spilling antique weapons and mysterious devices all over the floor. Even the door slipped a little on its hinges as it slammed shut in her wake.

* * *

The trip down to the dungeons was a noisy one, paintings were sent flying from their hooks and hanging lights – annoying even on the best of days – were ripped from the ceiling and hurled as hard as possible along the corridors. But the collateral damage did nothing to quell the feelings of hatred and betrayal that were swirling around in Seras' head.

She shouldered open the entrance to the dungeons and took the stairs two at a time. If Sir Integra – no, scratch that! If 'that _woman_' wanted her to stay in the dungeons then so be it! She would never _ever_ come out again. _Ever_! She'd make it hell for anyone who went down there and- And-!

She was nearly crying by the time she arrived outside her door and threw the piece of ebony wide, storming in but stopping abruptly at the sight of her master sat in her throne, waiting for her, presumably.

What the hell was _he_ doing here? Here to gloat over her weakness, was he? She stomped over to her dresser and yanked the top drawer out, spilling the contents on the floor with a curse. Tears actually did begin leaking from her eyes as she sifted through the underwear and socks on the floor, looking for one of the packets of cigarettes she had stashed away in there. Finding it, she stood up and snatched the zippo off the top of the dresser. But the fucking thing wouldn't light. Empty.

"Fuck!" She gasped, slamming it shut. Then, as if an after-thought, hurling it out the door. She tore the cigarette from her lips and tossed that out too, but it didn't make nearly as big an impact as she would have liked. And all the while Alucard sat silently, watching her. She could practically feel him laughing at her already.

"Go away." She growled, her back to him.

"Why?"

"Oh, like you don't fucking know," She scoffed, turning around, managing a mirthless laugh. "Why else would you be here but to gloat?!"

He remained silent, red eyes roving over her face, her dishevelled appearance, the strands of hair that had stuck themselves to the bloody tears on her cheeks, one lock of sunshine yellow trapped in the corner of her mouth. Angry eyes glower at him from under quivering brows.

"Why would I gloat at you?" He asked, crossing his legs but allowing one hand to rest on the table top. Seras' eyes followed the fingers as they drew a lazy circle on the wood. "Because of your failure as a servant? Because of your weakness without your powers?" She narrowed her eyes even further, until they were nothing but glowing slits in her face, brimming with tears, sticking the lashes together even as he watched. "You've done all this before, Police Girl. So why should I gloat?"

He looked as though he were going to give her the chance to speak and defend herself, but the moment she opened her mouth, he cut her down again.

"Or it is your inability to control yourself with this wild display?"

"Oh, shut up!" She shouted, throwing her hands up in the air, looking as though she wanted to rip her own hair out – or his – at any second. "I just got all this from that bitch upstairs!" Alucard bristled at the slur, "I don't need it from you!"

"Then what do you need from me?" He growled, rising from his seat and taking a step towards her. She took a step back and another, and another until she was backed up against the dresser and his fingers had wrapped around the collar – still exposed from when Sir Integra uncovered it – at her throat. He twisted it around his fingers until what little breathing space there was had been eaten up and the silver chain bit into her skin. "A lesson perhaps on how to hold your tongue?"

"Have I ever told you how much you bossing me about turns me on?" She sneered bravely, brows bent low over her glowering eyes. Her voice was indeed laced with sarcasm, but the grin that crossed Alucard's face was, in a word, beautiful. Wide and toothy, a wolf's grin etched onto a monster's lips.

"So make a move, Little Bird."

She glared at him as best she could, but before long the blood that was coursing sluggishly around her body began to bottle up in her veins and her head began to feel tight, as though her throat wasn't the only thing being compressed. Her master's visage began to sway in front of her as her eyes lost their focus, but her anger did not dissipate, despite her fear.

A tiny growl was all she could emit as she strained against his hold, pushing against the chain until the skin – which had quickly built a purple bruise beneath the line of the chain - split around it and blood squirted from the crevasse in her skin, splattering onto Alucard's waistcoat. With a quite tsk made under his breath, Alucard bent to taste the blood on her throat, fangs itching to dig themselves into her soft, white flesh. He wasn't allowed to get that far, however, as the action of leaning forward had loosened the chain's vice on Seras' throat and the vampyrress managed to throw him off her. He staggered back into the table, scattering the chairs as Seras virtually fell upon his chest, grabbing the waistcoat and shirt together and tearing them apart. His brass buttons pinged off, bouncing off Seras' body and tinkling to the floor.

Now it was her turn to go for his throat – she'd been holding herself back from tearing his bloody throat out all week, but now there were no reasons to resist – teeth snapping shut mere millimetres from breaking his skin, before he flattened her against the table top, his fingers caught again in the chain, warding her off and holding it taught to the table.

He clicked his tongue at her again and shook his head as his free hand completed the task of unclothing his torso. "I never gave you permission to drink my blood, Police Girl."

She swallowed thickly – from nerves or agitation she couldn't tell around the fluttering in her stomach – and replied, "I never give you permission to drink _my_ blood."

He lowered his face to hers, cold breath ghosting across her lips, fanning over her cheeks. "I don't need your permission." '_You're mine._'

An undefinable _something_ flicked on like a torch behind her eyes, narrowed and blazing, and she crashed her lips into his, their fangs clicking together with the force. He had to admit he was slightly surprised by her brazen behaviour, but then again there was more than just a little bit of truth in those words; 'Have I ever told you how much you bossing me about turns me on?'. No, but she didn't need to. He knew what turned her on; blood did the trick, so did the chain around his fingers, the idea that he owned her – that he _wanted _to own her… Being thrown about seemed to work too. Anything that suggested a thrill, a fight, a battle. She was a hunter, born predator and his bossing her about and dominating her certainly turned her on. It wasn't just her personally, it was a vampire thing.

He twisted the chain more sharply around his fingers – keeping her still and happy – while the fingers of his other hand went to work unbuttoning her shirt. Her fingers had slid into his hair on the commence of their lip-lock and they tightened to painful degrees when he slipped his gloved hand inside her shirt, caressing the curve of one breast through the material of her bra – satin, he noted with appreciation – before stroking over her belly to the waistline of her skirt.

The sharp feeling that raced over his skull was one he had sorely missed and he let a snarl escape around her lips before he allowed his mouth to follow his fingers. As he nosed apart the front of her shirt however, an extra hard yank dislodged his lips and dragged him back up to her eye level.

"Mina." She managed to say before he sealed her lips with another kiss. He'd intended on not allowing her to speak, knowing already what it was she wanted to say and how important she considered it to be, but hadn't caught her in time. He rolled his eyes at the rest of her unvoiced question and unstuck himself from her mouth, grumbling into her mind as he traced her throat with his tongue again, '_Doesn't matter._'

"Did you and she ever-?"

"No." He growled, temper fraying; couldn't she just enjoy this? Let herself become slave to her own desires without thinking about anything else, for a _little while_? "Shut up."

A look of indignant fury blazed immediately in her eyes and, with a surprising show of strength, she turned them over on the table, slamming his shoulders hard onto the wood and sitting up to straddle his hips. She opened her mouth to make an undoubtedly snide remark, but he cut her off, turning them over again and slamming her shoulders down in much the same fashion as she had done to him, eliciting a sharp gasp from the smaller creature. He was intent upon finishing what they started. They were now in the middle of the table and the number of chairs still standing around it had dwindled to one, the throne Alucard had previously been sat in.

Her skirt was shoved up to her hips before she could think of any protests, but if she was being honest with herself her mind was blank for a reason. A need had arisen with his rough handling of her and although she was disgusted at its cause she couldn't deny that it was desire, of the sinful variety. Her master's pupils were as dilated as ever she had seen them and his usually thin lips had taken on a slightly swollen appearance from her kisses. He was, in a word, divine. And beginning to unbuckle his belt.

Her mouth was going dry with the anticipation and the thought was hardly encouraging. Since when was she hungry for sex? With her master, of all people? If it were Pip…

"Don't think of him." Alucard growled, towering above her, sat back as he was on his heels, looking down at her along his nose.

"It was just a second." She grumbled, sitting up and – mustering her courage – pressing her own swollen lips to his sternum. A rumble of semi-approval reverberated through his chest and into her fangs and he tilted her chin up to kiss her again, left hand already pushing one of her legs wide while his right twisted through the chain again and forced her back down onto the table. He eased himself out of his trousers, her panties were shoved aside and the next moment her walls had been breached.

The pain wasn't the mind-splitting thing she had expected; it was sharp at first and then it seemed to burn, almost like an acid sting. He didn't allow her any time to adjust, however, seemingly intent on satisfying himself and virtually ignoring her. Unnecessary breath escaped in a hiss as he released her mouth and, using his teeth, pulled her bra out of the way, shoving it up over her breasts. Her fingers found the table's edge as his lips and tongue descended upon one dusky peak. It was all she could do to hang on as the pain between her thighs turned languidly into the beginnings of pleasure and the fingers of Alucard's left hand gripped her thigh, indenting her flesh.

* * *

The room was quiet and still, for as long as it had taken the pair to get to that state, they slipped back out of it very quickly. It was like an engine winding down; the frenzied buzz of the gears slowing to a few clicks and then perfect stillness.

Seras stared blankly up at her ceiling as her master's breath blew coolly across her bare chest, his mouth open, forehead braced against her collarbone. If he were to move at all, she would feel it and she knew she would not enjoy it. The last few moments of their exchange saw her walls tear around his assault and the pleasantly white-hot heat which had been curling up around her belly was suddenly replaced by excruciating pain. It was all she could do not to cry out, biting her lip instead, culling all sounds that might escape her.

Now that the deed was done she was a lot calmer, drained. It would have appeared that the release of the tensions between herself and her master was what was really needed, although it still didn't excuse him for Mina. Yes, they may have made up, but the fact still remained that he had kept her existence a secret.

'_Is there anything else I should know, Master?_' She asked, pushing thoughts of Mina and the Battle of London towards him.

The reply she was granted was a sleepy one. '_You've no idea how to savour a moment, do you? And you don't have to call me master anymore._'

'_You're still my master._' So he was savouring the moment. Why? This wasn't a moment to be savoured. It was a moment to be cast aside quickly before either one of them realised the mistake they'd just made.

'_What makes this a mistake, Seras?_' He lifted his head from her chest, red eyes peering like deep dark bloody pools from under curling jet black bangs. He was Vladimir Tepes right now, not quite her master. Unrecognisable.

'_You're a stranger._' She said, shutting her eyes. She didn't even want to look. What Pip would think of her now… She didn't even want to think… A disappointed sigh was the only warning she was given before Vladimir disengaged them from one another. Seras slipped a pained hiss as the last vestige of him was removed from her. She had heard tell of an 'empty' feeling when two lovers parted and she didn't think that this was it. This empty feeling was more than just physical, it was deep-reaching and encompassing, touching her poor little heart and shattering any hopes of returning to the carefree, wholesome young woman she used to be.

'_Do you regret this?_' Vladimir asked, almost conversationally, as he bent to pick up one of the chairs that had been knocked over in their initial encounter, setting it upright and sitting on it. He had already corrected his trousers and was buttoning his shirt up again, even though only three buttons remained intact.

Seras watched as he smoothed his mane out of his eyes and adjusted his shirt cuffs, then turned her head away when he threatened to make eye contact. He was Vladimir Tepes in her master's clothing. She didn't want to look. She didn't even want to consider… '_I don't have time to regret things. It comes with the territory._'

He offered her no reply, but she continued regardless, she didn't need his permission this time. '_I'm a vampire. If I were to regret all the things I've done in this life, all the people I've killed on orders alone, all the people I've let die…_' She huffed a sigh into the silent room. '_But worse than that; if I regretted all the things I've done to myself… There would be nothing left of me._'

Still not looking at him, she tried gingerly to sit up on the edge of the table, but the pain was too great and she ended up merely curled over the edge, bottom lip caught between her teeth. Vladimir stood from his chair, his footsteps quiet on the stone tiles and entirely unwanted. The last thing she wanted was him to come over while she was in this state. She might have said she didn't regret it, but the reality was diametrically the obvious. Of course she regretted this, it was a rash decision made in the heat of an angry moment.

His fingers were cold on her bare shoulder as he teased her gently from the edge of the table, uncurling her so she lay flat on her back. Wordlessly, he dropped to his knees between her thighs and nuzzled through her curls, putting cold lips to her core.

'_Wh-!? Master…_' She grimaced, fingers affixing themselves again to the edges of the table and she tried not to yelp or squirm under his tongue as he lapped at the entrance to her sex… And wounds…

'_Vladimir._' He corrected._ 'Don't regret something like this, Little Bird._' He peered up at her again and this time she met his eyes. 'Or it was a long road to ruin', was what his gaze was telling her and she allowed her head to fall back against the table, red welling up in her eyes. She pressed a palm over her mouth and tried not to make a sound as her tears tracked lines towards the table, getting caught up in her hair and soaking in, staining the golden locks a dirty orange. Because despite how much she wanted, _needed_ to do as he said, how could she not regret this elaborate excuse for a suicide?

* * *

_**A/N:**_ So... This is awkward... Should I start running now? Or wait until you've lit your torches and gathered your pitch-forks?

I don't usually like to churn something out like this until I'm satisfied with it, but it's taken me four days to write and this is, believe it or not Ladies and Gents, attempt number eight. Yup, eight. I was going crazy with this thing; kneeling on the floor before my computer for a good long while, bowing a praying that it would inspire me somehow; talking to myself in Alucard's voice as I kick my cup of coffee across the room (unintentionally); standing on my head, attempting to re-create the head-rushing bit to see if any Seras-ish thoughts popped into my head... It's a good thing I live alone I tell you, otherwise the men in white coats would have whisked me away by now...

Oh and just in case some people are a bit sniffy about Alucard's cunnilingus-post-sex; I don't imagine it's the kind of thing that would bother him.

So yeah, please tell me what you thought (not sure I can bare any criticism in the fragile state I'm in though, so go easy on me folks), requests for different lemons (as they say, the first time is always the hardest ;) ) or just a friendly chat with a newly-turned-crazy person!

-Lapin


	14. The Prelude to Pain

_**A/N:**_ Oh gosh, such a big break; Uni; fresher's flu; writers' block;an unwarranted complete system reboot... these all conspired to delay any updates. But never fear, I have a whole week where I'm meant to be doing stuff, but I'm not at Uni, so I can procrastinate like mad, churn out updates and just cram all my work into the last three days :D  
That having been said, please enjoy the latest installment,

* * *

The Prelude to Pain.

Quiet: The absence of noise, or bustle; calm; silence - rare in the Hellsing house, but not unheard of. Today, and indeed every day following their coupling on Seras' table, had been quiet. The No Life King hadn't known such quiet in a good many years. There always seemed to be so much that needed doing, scum that needed hunting, humans that needed rescuing. But whatever there was to be done, the Hellsing infantry could apparently handle it and the only interactions to be had with the world upstairs had so far been few and far between.

Sir Integra had called for him twice in the past week and even then it was only to enquire after the condition of his fledgling. He replied that he had no idea how - or even where - she was and he had been dismissed promptly. He had no inclinations to roam the upstairs hallways or the corridors of the dungeons and had been, thus far, perfectly content to lounge on his throne and snack on a few blood packets that appeared outside his door every so often. He neither knew, nor cared how they got there, but they were welcomed none the less. This was the first time in a long time that he had felt so restful, so peaceful, so… Tamed…

* * *

There was a leak somewhere in the ceiling of the dungeons; it had obviously been raining outside all week and the moisture had perforated the old brickwork, seeping through it and gathering on its underside in little droplets. It now fell to the dungeon floor in a steady rhythm, quite unchecked and quite irritating. Unable to sleep, Seras had taken to exploring the dungeons, hoping to quell the anger she felt towards the situation she'd gotten herself into. The memories themselves were beginning to blur into one another, as though she were drunk when it happened, but the events were still as clear as ever. They'd licked each other's wounded pride, egos, even flesh and then he'd left with nary a word. They hadn't seen each other since and it had been a good week and a bit since she'd slept in her coffin. She was horny, furious and utterly exhausted and yet the droplets of water that now bounced off the end of her nose cut through those inhibitors like a hot knife through butter.

Questions – some she'd been avoiding and some she'd never even thought of before – began welling up in her mind and – like a strange rendition of Chinese water torture - the steady beads of water forced her to confront each one.

Did she like her master?

Yes, in a sense of the word. He wasn't bad to look at most days and his company was certainly preferable to having nothing at all. Since her ascension to full Vampyrress he had been a lot more accommodating and they managed not to fight 99% of the time.

But did that amount to actual affection between them?

Not really. It was more of a relationship of balancing each other out. She needed him to restore her faith in her own humanity sometimes, prove to her that she wasn't as much of a monster as she potentially could be; he needed her to bring him out of his deep, dark hole, return him to the world of the relative living lest he lose himself entirely to his brooding and chin-stroking.

So what could be done about this? Or better yet, what did she _want_ to be done about this?

Well, a little genuine affection wouldn't go amiss. What shall henceforth be known as The Table Incident couldn't really count as genuine affection, but it was a prelude to it, surely? A preview if you will and now that she'd seen it, she wanted the full thing.

But with him?

Why not?

Did he like her back?

She wasn't sure…

Why not?

He didn't seem like the type to show affection, not in full anyway. Teasing was a part of him, just like worrying about things was a part of her, inseparable and dependent on one another. If she wanted him to show affection, it would be a lie, a hoax at best. Even if his intentions were to make her feel better by showing some semblance of the stuff, it wouldn't be genuine and genuine was what she wanted.

Was that _all_ she wanted?

If it was, then any sort of genuine reaction would do. Even if it was something less than affectionate. Even if it was an obsession bourn from hatred. Even if she had to force him into it. Anything would do. Right?

Seras shook her head, stopping staring at the ceiling and wiped a hand over her nose and mouth, ridding herself of the moisture, much as her master had done on the culmination of their coupling. She looked at her wet palm in the darkness. It was strange; to look at something when there was no light. It was colourless and the water, being utterly textureless was nearly unperceivable. The only way she had of identifying it was by the feel of it. There was no light to glance off it, it reflected nothing, she wasn't even able to see if the drops – she was sure there had to be some – ran from side to side. It wasn't a solid and yet here it was on the palm of her hand, as real and vapid as ever it could be. She was struck by the analogy it made of her relationship with her master – could she call him that still? He had told her not to – tangible, and yet completely undefinable. Like she could touch it but didn't know what it was. But if she could touch it, she could feel it, and it she could feel it, then he could feel it, and it he could feel it, then she could cause him pain. And since pain seemed to be the order of the day – on her part at least – she didn't see why this wasn't an excellent place to start at.

She wiped her hand off on her jogging bottoms and turned back down the corridor. It was time to begin defining their relationship.

* * *

What had, so far, been promising to be another quiet day sat on his throne and sipping blood from a wine glass, was dashed to the four winds when the No Life King's chamber door flew open and bounced off the wall. A warning shriek was emitted by its hinges, before they exploded from the pressure exerted upon them by the Vampyrress - clad in rugby sweater, jogging bottoms and rabid-rabbit socks - stood on the other side of the now-gaping hole in the wall.

Seras stomped over the door – which had toppled to the floor in the wake of its late-hinges' demise – and veritably marched across the room, looking as though she meant business. There were, surprisingly, no thoughts that crossed the King's mind as his glass of blood was swatted from his fingers and smashed to the floor in as unceremonious a fashion as his door had been and he made no sounds at all as Seras' lips met his. Her hands clawed immediately into his hair and the chair – which she had hit at full force – began to sway backwards.

Where once he may have flailed in an attempt to delay the inevitable, now the King found his hands full of curves and flesh and the throne was allowed to crash over backwards, unchecked. The two spilled from it, sliding over its back and onto the cold, hard stone.

In this endeavour, the King had very little participation, becoming more of a spectator in his own sport as fangs clashed, fingers clawed and his clothing was ripped from him in dribs and drabs; his cravat flying over here; his coat over there. The waist-coat was simply ripped to shreds and would have to be replaced and a report as to what had happened to it – it was as close to a uniform as he was likely to get after all – would have to be written up and submitted, embarrassingly enough. For the first time in any sexually orientated encounter, the No Life King found himself not only going quite limp and – for lack of any other word – spare, he also found himself out of breath. While he may have been left relatively tame by the events of The Table Incident, Seras apparently had not.

However, before he could recover from his apparent stupor and respond to the reality that he was in fact, being ravished, Seras got up and left. Leaving him with only one thought; '_What the bloody hell just happened?_'.

* * *

A/N: Well Folks, that, as they say, is it. The come back has been made and production shall therefore, hopefully, resume at full force. I have plenty of half written installments, I just needed something to link The Table Incident with everything else. And here it is.

Don't worry, Seras' thoughts will be explained (I had in fact already explained them all in the first version of this chapter, but the aforementioned impromptu system reboot trashed it) in later chapters, just give me a bit of time ok. I wrote all this this morning and haven't had time to sort through the rest yet.

All dedications will likely come at the end of this story and I'd say we're about half way there.

Please give feedback, critique (although I can't promise I'll take it well :P) and compliments are all accepted.

-Lapin

P.S. If you're crazy and you know it shake your meds! *Kalakalakalakalakalakalakala*


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